The Road Warriors
by IceonFire7
Summary: Set immediately after S2, Charlie and Bass become partners working with Texas to help wipe out any remaining Patriots. They will be out on the road a lot, but other characters will be around. It's basically a spinoff of Revolution focusing on Charlie and Bass. Eventual Charloe, but a slow burn. Rated T for now.
1. Chapter 1

**This has been in my head since the cancellation. What I would have really wanted after Revolution got cancelled. A spinoff with Charlie and Bass fighting the bad guys. This is very slow burn Charloe because I want it to be realistic. The good news is they are together almost all the time. Just no smoochies yet. But there will be a lot of eyef**ks and snarky banter like at the beginning of S2. And a lot of BIG conversations between the two. I really needed to do this considering how I suspect the comic book is going to turn out.**

 **Please leave a review if you have a chance.**

 **I don't own Revolution, but maybe they should have given it to some of the fans. We'd probably take better care of it.**

* * *

"So, did you get your vengeance on the Patriots?"

Bass stopped, strolling over to Charlie as she sat in front of a tent cleaning her gun. "A little. Lots more of these sons of bitches to go through until we're even."

She cocked an eyebrow. "It's a start."

"True." He glanced over his shoulder. "You see Miles around anywhere?"

Charlie smiled. "Just left. I, uh, think he may be talking to my mom."

She saw the moment the light bulb went off in his head. He chuckled. "Yeah, why am I not surprised. You good with that?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but, yeah, I am."

He raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, not trying to pick a fight. Just asking. They deserve each other."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Few people had the ability to piss her off as much or as quickly as Monroe.

"Nothing, Charlie, it doesn't mean anything. Holy hell. Stop being so sensitive." He turned to walk away when she stopped him.

"Monroe." He looked back at her. Her face was stern, and he could tell she was struggling to voice her thoughts. "Back there...with the president. Thank you."

He stood still for a moment, then stepped closer, cupping a hand to his ear. "I'm sorry. Did you just say thank you?"

"Don't be an ass." She sighed.

"No, I just want to make sure I heard you correctly." He **was** being an ass, but he couldn't resist. Charlie was so easy to rile up.

"Fine. I said thank you. I didn't think you were going to come through, but you did." She lowered her head. "I won't forget that you helped us out."

He nodded. "Well, look at that. I've been thanked by two Matheson women in the last 24 hours. And the world didn't actually end."

She shook her head, a reluctant smirk on her face. He took two steps away from her when Miles's shriek echoed throughout the camp.

They both took off running, racing past tents until they reached her mother's. Miles was shouting her grandfather's name as they entered. She took one look at the scene before her and fell to her knees beside a bleeding Rachel.

"Mom...Mom..." With shaking hands, she reached for her mother. "What happened?"

"I don't know." Miles held her mother's head in his lap, his hand bright red as it covered her abdomen. He looked up to Monroe standing just inside the door. "Bass, get Gene. Go!"

Monroe was out the door before the word completely left her uncle's mouth. He was back in a matter of moments with Gene in tow.

"I heard you calling." Gene crouched by his daughter, moving Miles's hand away to get a look at the wound.

"Grandpa, is she going to be OK?" The panic in Charlie's voice was palpable. "Is she?"

"I'll have to see, Charlie."

Gene glanced up at Miles, who looked to his best friend. "Bass, get her out of here."

"No, I want to stay." Monroe reached for her, pulling her up by the sleeves of her jacket; she squirmed against him, trying to get away. "I want to stay."

"Charlie, come on," Bass said, his voice softer than she'd ever heard it. "Let them work on her."

As he led her out, she yanked away from him, stomping a few yards from the tent. He knew she was pissed and wasn't sure whether to say anything or just leave it be.

"Do you think she...do you think she's going to be OK?"

He couldn't remember ever hearing Charlie's voice so uncertain. And he was no good at the sensitive stuff. Clearing his throat, he stepped closer to her. "You're mother is one of the strongest women I've ever met. She's not done riding my ass into the dirt yet, Charlie, so yeah, I think she's going to make it."

He got nothing but a nod. No rolling of the eyes or tiny little sarcastic smirk she liked to throw at him. He understood that despite the fact that Rachel got on her daughter's nerves, she was still her mother. Charlie was worried out of her mind.

She plopped on the ground beside Rachel's tent, a solemn look on her face. He could imagine the things running through her head; if anyone understood losing loved ones, it was him. As much as Rachel bugged the shit out of him, he hoped for both Miles and Charlie's sake that she was alright. Instead of wandering off on his own, he sat beside her, close but not too close, a comfortable silence settling over them.

A little over 30 minutes later, Gene emerged from the tent, wiping blood off his hands. Charlie was up in a flash, Bass following right behind her. "Grandpa?"

Gene gave her a little smile. "Your mom's going to be fine, Charlie. Whoever did this stabbed her in exactly the right spot. No major organs were hit. I stitched her up, and she's resting with Miles."

"Can I see her?"

"Of course."

Without a second glance in Monroe's direction, she hurried into the tent. He nodded at Gene, then turned and headed to his tent. It had been an eventful 24 hours, and all he really wanted to do now was sleep.

* * *

"So what am I doing here, Frank?" Bass asked. Less than a week had passed since Texas discovered the full truth of the Patriots. Less than a week since they'd kidnapped the President. Less than a week since he'd lost his son. He'd gone back for him, but both Connor and Neville had escaped from the shack.

Sitting behind a big desk in some field ready makeshift office, the brim of his cowboy hat passing through his fingers, Blanchard stared at him for a few moments. The big guy was nervous, and it was starting to freak Bass the hell right out. "I've got what ya might call a proposition for you, Monroe."

Bass rolled his eyes. "I don't even like the way that sounds."

"You gonna give me a chance to explain it or you just gonna bitch and moan?"

He sighed, motioning with his hand. "Give it to me."

"We got these Patriots on the run, it's true. Some are going to be easy to handle, quick and painless. But there's more of these sons of bitches than we thought. And they are proving to be ridiculously loyal." Frank stood and poured two glasses of whiskey, handing one to Bass before returning to his spot behind the desk.

"Well, they brainwashed the kids." Bass took a large gulp of his drink. "I have no idea what the hell they did to the adults to get them to comply."

"What I'm saying is we don't want a repeat of what happened earlier this week to keep happening." At Bass's blank look, he explained further. "With Rachel Matheson."

"Ah."

"The official report is that someone snuck into her tent and stabbed her. Gave her a little something from Davis. Meanwhile, someone else helped him escape. We never even found Truman. Now we can't have these bastards finding their way back to being in charge."

Bass was in full agreement there. "What's the plan?"

"We need some people out there tracking down and bringing in some of these Patriots that are getting away or are holed up somewhere else. Whether it be here in Texas, or out in the Plains, maybe even in the Wasteland." Blanchard raised an eyebrow at him.

"Bounty hunters."

"Something sort of like that. We're getting together some...specialty teams."

"What, like Black Ops? Why not just have the Rangers do it?"

"Well, Rangers have a code. And right now we're less worried about the dead or alive thing." Blanchard gulped down the rest of his whiskey, smacking the glass down on his desk. "Never know what's going to happen out there. These teams will have full discretion to do what they need to take down the enemy."

Blanchard stopped and stared at Bass again. Understanding exactly what was being laid on the table here, Bass chuckled. "What, you're saying you want me?"

"It's a good job, Monroe. You'd be well compensated by the state of Texas. And these jobs would take you out of here for a few days, then bring you back. You could have a decent house here, around the people you know."

Bass shook his head. "I've got my own plans."

"Planning to get the Republic back. That's horseshit and you know it." Blanchard leaned back, the chair creaking with his full weight. "If we start dividing and conquering again, those khaki bastards are going to come right back at us. Now we wipe them out, maybe we can gather up those leftover troops of yours and Foster's. And maybe we can really get back the U.S. of A. The real one."

Bass glanced away, running his hands through his hair. It made sense. This was exactly what he'd been preaching to Connor, to Miles. He'd wanted the Republic back so it could be better. At least he'd convinced himself that's what he wanted. But working with Miles again, doing the "right" thing, it sort of felt...good. It felt like old times.

But his son was also out there, all alone with Neville. Though he had a sneaking suspicion that Connor could handle himself far better than he'd ever let on. He had no idea where they were, and he was half sure Connor would just shoot him on sight the next time they came face to face.

So what did he really have? A kid that no longer trusted him or wanting anything to do with him. Or a Republic that had turned on him before those bombs had ever even dropped. Maybe he should just keep his ass put, in the place that the only remnants of his family lived. "These are two man teams?"

Blanchard nodded. "We've been putting ex-Rangers together, a couple former bounty hunters. But you say yes, you get to pick your man. Anyone you want for a partner is yours."

"Miles."

"Except him." Bass raised an eyebrow and stood, prepared to leave without another word. "Monroe, sit back down."

"You said anyone."

"And I would give you Miles. Hell, I'd be happy as a clam having Matheson and Monroe teamed back up together. It would scare the shit out some of those bastards." Blanchard sighed. "But Miles doesn't want it."

Bass dropped back into his chair. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I offered the job to Miles. Figured he'd want you and then I wouldn't be here trying to convince your sorry ass to join up. He flat-out turned me down." Blanchard propped his chin against his hand. "He said he wants to try to make a life in Willoughby."

Bass swallowed, eyes narrowing. "He what-he said he wants to do what?"

"I guess seeing his woman laying on the ground bleeding made him realize what he might lose. So he's sticking close to her."

"Of course he is." And if that didn't just piss his shit the hell right off. Once again, Rachel won, neutering his best friend like a damn puppy.

"He's still going to be working for me. Helping these new teams out if necessary, trying to track down some locations where we might find Patriot strongholds. And, uh, he'll be in charge of law enforcement down in Willoughby."

"He's going to be the town sheriff?" Bass let out a huge laugh. No way was he leaving Texas now. The insult capabilities were much too high. He was never going to let Miles live it down.

"Alright, alright. You can peel the tar out of your buddy later. Now, I can't deliver you Miles, but if there's anyone else you want, they're yours."

Bass crossed to the liquor cabinet, poured himself another drink, and swallowed it down in one gulp. "Charlie."

"Okay. Charlie who?"

"Matheson. Charlie Matheson." He sat back down, eyes locked on Blanchard. "She's who I want, Frank."

"Miles's niece?"

"That's right."

Blanchard's face darkened as he eyed Bass. "Is this some sort of revenge against Miles for not wanting to do this?"

"No." And quite frankly, he was a little insulted on Charlie's behalf that anyone would suggest that. "The girl's a damn good fighter. She's not afraid to do what it takes. And she's enough like her uncle that we work well together."

"We were teaming up men."

"She's as good as any man."

"And there might be a safety issue. Some of the places you have to go may be rough for a woman."

"Charlie can handle rough. I've seen her take out five men at a time. She's not some girl you need to sugar coat things for. And I'll be there." Frank still didn't seem convinced. "Look, some of this may require a little undercover work. A man and a woman can sometimes get things done better and with less suspicion. She's my partner, Frank. Or I'm out."

"Well, I can't force her."

"Yeah, let me worry about that part."

"Alright, Monroe, if she says yes and you think she's ready for this...works for me." They stared at each other for a minute. "Anything else?"

"Get her down here."

"Now?" Blanchard's eyes widened.

"Yes, now." Seriously, the entire next few months of his life were on hold here and Frank wanted to wait?

The old man sighed, standing and walking out of his makeshift office. He returned about fifteen minutes later, Charlie right behind him.

Her eyes widened when she saw Monroe. Settling carefully into the seat beside him, she focused on Blanchard. "OK...what the hell is this all about?"

"Ms. Matheson, I have a job offer for you. If you're at all interested in taking it." She said nothing, just stared at Blanchard until he continued. "It's probably not going to be enough to just sweep up the Patriots and be done with it. We're going to have to put a little more effort into it."

She glanced at Monroe once more. "Alright, stop beating around the bush. What is this all about and what does this idiot have to do with anything?"

Blanchard looked at Bass, who shrugged as if to say 'I told you so'. "So much for kid gloves. Looks like Monroe was right about you. You're not the kind of woman who needs to be handled with care."

"Got a problem with that?" Subconsciously, her hand rested on the hilt of her knife.

"Me, not at all. I've got myself one hell of a female general out there already." Most of the camp knew of General Donegan. It was more than Charlie could say for Monroe; his republic hadn't had any female officers that she was aware of.

"Just say what you gotta."

"We're putting together teams. To track down and hunt any last sign of Patriots wherever we might find them," Blanchard explained. "We'd like you to be a part of that. Would that be something you'd be interested in?"

She thought of her mom and the scar that would forever mar her skin where that Patriot bastard had slipped the knife in. "Might be. But why is he here?"

Blanchard's eyes skipped to Bass for a second before meeting hers again. "These teams will be specialized teams of two-"

"Oh, no...no, no, no...with him." She stood. "You think I'm going to team up with him? You're insane."

"Charlie-" Bass interrupted.

She didn't even acknowledge him. "Why would you ever think of putting me with him?"

"I didn't. He did."

Charlie turned to Bass, staring at him as if he'd grown a third head. "What in our history together makes you think I'd want to work with you?"

"I don't know. How about the fact that we seem to fight well together, that we make a pretty good team."

"I hate you."

"I'm well aware." Bass leaned back his seat. Getting under her skin was almost as much fun as getting under Miles's. "And yet, we've been able to put that aside to get the job done before."

She glared down at him. "What's in it for you? I thought you wanted your Republic back."

He looked away, his mind on Connor. "Things have changed."

"And they always do with you, Monroe." She looked back to Blanchard. "Look, it sounds like a great offer, and maybe if you wanted to partner me with someone else...but I just don't think this is going to work."

She turned to go, stopping at Bass's loud outburst. "Charlotte...damn it. Frank, can I have a moment here?"

Blanchard was up and out the door faster than Bass had ever seen the man move. "Charlie, listen to me. A lot of the fighting in towns like Austin and Willoughby is done. They'll clear the Patriots out and life will go back to normal. So this is it. This is how life will be from now on."

"What's your point?" she asked, spinning back to him.

"Is this really what you want?" He stood, walking closer. "Small town life in Willoughby."

"I'm going to be here with my family."

"Yeah, your mom and Miles, working it out. It'll be fun to be around the two of them. Your grandpa, taking in patients and sitting out on the porch having a drink at the end of the night. And you're going to do what? Get some nine to five job waiting tables down at the bar?" He stepped even closer; he could tell he was getting to her. "Get up for work in the morning, come home at night, bake cookies with your mom. Maybe at some point, you'll meet some nice little farm boy, pop out a few kids, and this is your life..."

"Miles..."

"Miles is going to be the town sheriff. So yeah, your whole family is here. Might as well hang it all up and stay here with them. I don't imagine Aaron will be going anywhere either, so you've got a full set. Sounds great...sounds idyllic." He was really close now; he lowered his head to catch her eyes. "But is that what you want, Charlie?"

"I..."

"Charlie, I have done things to you that I can never make up for. Not ever. I know that. But in some ways, we're a lot alike."

She sneered. "I'm nothing like you."

"Well, you've got a strong moral compass and a good heart. And I-I don't have those things...not anymore." As she glanced up at him, he caught the question in her eyes. That was not something he wanted to get into right now. "But we both like the fight, Charlie. The adventure. We'd both get bored off of our asses sitting in Willoughby for the rest of our lives. Actually, I'm not sure how Miles is going to fight that. He's got that same wanderlust that we do. But he loves your mom, so I guess he's going to try. And hey, good for them...whatever."

"Can you not be so sarcastic when you say that?"

"No, I don't think so." She rolled her eyes. There would never be any love lost between him and Rachel Matheson. "Look, I'm asking you for a chance here, a truce. Maybe we can work together and just get rid of the rest of these Patriots. For the past year, we've been working on the same side as it is. And we didn't make too bad a team on the way to Willoughby in the first place, right?"

"I don't know..."

"You fight enough like Miles to make it easy for me. I fight enough like him to make it easy for you. It's a good match, Charlie, and you know it."

"It is...until the next time you decide you want your republic back or you want power or you want to side with the bad guys again." She cut his protests off before they even started. "Monroe, in the past two weeks, you turned on us and tried to steal our train."

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I know...but I won't do that to you."

"You will."

"No, I won't. Miles knows that I am loyal to my family. You're a Matheson, Charlie, that means you're already a part of that. When Miles asked me to do the right thing, I did. I came through with the president. I know I walked away once, but I came back." She sighed, and he knew both of their thoughts were in that hallway in that school. "I won't let you down. I won't betray my partner. Not ever."

"Monroe..."

"I won't do that to you. I will not leave you alone out there. Some of the places we might have to go to could be rough. I won't leave you." He could see her processing the information in her brain. "Think it over. I don't need an answer right now."

She stared at him for a few minutes before walking out the door without a word.

* * *

Five hours later, the flap to his tent opened and Charlie stepped through. "Alright, I'm in."

"I'll let Blanchard know."

She nodded and stepped back out, the flap falling into place as she left. Partners...


	2. Criminal World

**Chapter 2 is finally here. Charlie and Bass are going on their first mission together. The beginning of this story heavily features Charlie and Miles, but there are two reasons for this. First, I felt like after all the stuff with the comic, I needed a little Miles time. Second, and more importantly, I want this to read like a genuine spinoff would. And I needed this scene to establish the still strong uncle/niece relationship between Charlie and Miles, not to mention her relationship with the rest of her family. Other characters will play into this story even though it's about a journey that Charlie and Bass take together. But Miles is so central to both of their lives, so he features a bit more than most when they are home in Willoughby. I promise this will be about the longest Charloe won't be in the same scene together.**

 **Lemon, thanks as always for your help. Your critiques were heard and duly noted, even though I kept a few of the things you questioned :)**

 **One line that Bass says to Charlie is actually from the first episode of the TV show Bones.**

 **I still don't own Revolution, sadly.**

* * *

I guess I recognize your destination  
I think I see beneath your make-up  
What you want is sort of separation  
This is no ordinary, this is no ordinary

What a criminal world – _Criminal World – David Bowie_

* * *

Miles watched her from his stool, studying her moves in the long mirror that lined the wall behind the bar. Charlie was drawing her prey in, flirting and teasing, standing just a little too close and twisting the guy around her little finger. As hard as it was for him to admit, she was damn good at this. Which led him to the other line of thought he was trying to avoid.

When Charlie had first announced her new career choice, it caused a bit of an uproar in the Matheson house. It hadn't surprised him that she didn't want to stay in Willoughby day in and day out. Even her choice to join the fight to end the Patriots wasn't completely a shock. What had surprised him, and more than slightly pissed off her mother, was her future partner.

Bass. The thought of her taking off to here and there with his best friend...his ex-best friend...his former ex-best friend...was a little unsettling. But Bass had come through for them when they'd most needed it. He'd returned Davis, all in one piece, and allowed their little facade to play out. For the past several weeks, they'd been spending a little time together, and he had to admit it was...nice. In all honesty, he'd really missed Bass.

Even Rachel had to concede that Bass had helped them out, and she'd retracted her claws just a bit. But that reprieve apparently did not extend to her daughter running off across the country with him. He'd only been mildly worried when Charlie had explained what she'd signed on for. However, she and Rachel had gotten into an all-out argument, with his niece stomping out the door, insisting that she was old enough to make her own decisions.

The one thing he did know was that Bass would protect Charlie, with his own life if necessary. That's just how the guy was. If you were family, and Charlie certainly was simply by birth alone, Bass would defend you to the death.

His eyes flicked back to his niece as she leaned over the pool table at the back end of the bar; her hip brushed against the groin of the man she was currently seducing. Yeah, Charlie was made for her new job, and she could probably do far worse for a partner than Bass.

His gaze locked on the couple as they made their way outside. He gave it a few more minutes than took off after them. Stepping out into the clammy night air, he heard noises in the alley off to his left. Turning that way just in case he was needed, he rounded the corner and stopped, taking in the scene before him.

Chuckling, he strolled over to where his niece had the guy from the bar down on his knees, his arm wrenched behind his back and a knife to his throat. Maybe he shouldn't have involved his niece in his little sting operation, but as sheriff, he had to at least make it look like he was following the law; he needed a little proof. "Jesus, Charlie, don't kill the guy."

"Sorry," she said, a small smirk on her face. "He got a little too grabby. And he didn't like it very much when I said no."

"At least put the knife away." As Charlie slid her knife back into its sheath, Miles crouched down next to the man, his face close to the asshole currently being manhandled by his much smaller niece. "Listen, pal, Willoughby's a friendly little town, full of good people. No one likes it much when some hotshot drifter comes along, takes up with a local girl, and then beats the shit out of her."

"I didn't-"

Miles backhanded him. "And we really hate liars. I know you did it. And your little night out here just confirmed it. Meet my niece...who you just assaulted as well."

Charlie yanked her hand up, the movement pulling the man's arm even further behind his back. "Maybe next time, you can try picking on a woman who can defend herself."

"Hey," Miles said.

She rolled her eyes at the brief reprimand. "Sorry, Sheriff."

Forcing down the smile that wanted to cross his face, he refocused on the guy in front of him. "Sorry about that. She goes a little crazy when women get beat by their boyfriends."

Charlie snorted, mouthing the word 'sorry' when Miles's eyes shot up to her again.

"My name is Miles Matheson. Maybe you've heard of me." The guy's eyes widened and he nodded. "This is my town. So what I want you to do is gather up your shit, and get the hell out of here. Charlie, let him go."

Breathing heavily, the man collapsed to the ground when she released his arm. Miles stood and looked down at him. "That request to leave was immediate. If I find you're still around within the hour...well, I won't stop her next time. And if I ever hear about you assaulting another woman anywhere, I will personally track you down and put a bullet in you. Or maybe I'll just give you to Sebastian Monroe. You know him, right?"

The guy was up and running before another word could be spoken. When the guy was finally out of sight, Charlie turned to him. "You think he's going to try to stick around?"

"Nah," Miles said. "I know real fear when I see it. He'll be in the Plains Nation within the week."

"Do you think he'll abuse someone else?"

"I don't know, Charlie. I hope that was a strong enough threat. And he just might think about you the next time he tries to pick up a date." They walked towards the entrance to the alley. "So, uh, any news about your first assignment?"

He'd accepted Charlie's need to weed out the rest of the Patriots, rather the same way she had accepted his need to stay in Willoughby and work things out with her mother. He was staying; she was going. It felt an awful lot like the first time they came to town, all strung out and overly tense from the Tower. And he really did understand how hard it was to give up the lifestyle they'd become accustomed to over the last couple of years. Charlie always wanted to see the world, and now, with Bass as her partner, she would.

"Not so far. But word should be coming down any time now. Monroe and I are up." The first two teams had already been dispatched, and their number was next.

Miles was so bad with the touchy feely shit, but this one little girl had come crashing into his life, and he hadn't been able to shake her ever since. Quite truthfully, he never wanted to. She'd become the closest thing he would ever have to a daughter. "Are you worried about this at all?"

"It's just a mission, Miles. We've faced those before."

"Yeah, we have." He stopped as they arrived at his small apartment above the general store. Charlie was staying there now, until she could find something a little more permanent. Despite the fact that Blanchard was based in Austin, she and Bass had decided to remain close to their family. Besides, it wasn't that long a ride to the capital. "You and me."

She cocked an eyebrow. "You sound slightly jealous."

He wasn't, not really. The craving for adventure was still there, but he finally had a chance with the one woman he'd always loved; he had to make that right. Plus, if anyone could keep Rachel calm over her daughter's choice of partner, he supposed it had to be him. "Yeah, I really don't mind being the sheriff. Even with the dickhead teasing me about it. Look, I know you traveled with Bass before, but are you worried about going out there with him?"

"Oh, you mean because I've chosen to partner up with an unstable, possibly psychotic ex-dictator?" Miles shook his head. Those were Rachel's words. He had no doubt that Charlie might once have believed that herself, but she'd teamed up with Bass enough in the last year to know that he would, at the very least, not leave her hanging in the wind. "To use your words, I'm choosing to believe in him."

He had said something along those lines when he'd let Bass take off with Davis. "Yeah. And he came through."

"The one thing I know, that I honestly believe, is that he'll have my back."

"He will. That he will."

An aide from the office of President Blanchard approached the two of them and handed her an official looking letter. "Miss Matheson."

"Yes."

"President Blanchard has just arrived in town. He'd like to see you and Sebastian Monroe in his office in 15 minutes."

So this was it. The time had come. "I'll be there."

The assistant hurried off, and she turned to Miles. "Well, kid, batter up."

Smiling, she pulled him into a quick hug. "I'll try to stop by before we leave. If not, I'll miss you."

"Yeah, I'll miss you too." He released her, never too comfortable with the mushy stuff. But he did love the hell out of Charlie. "See you when you get back."

With a little wave, she headed off in the direction of Blanchard's local office.

* * *

Bass was already there when she arrived, seated in the small waiting area. When the Patriots ruled the town, the office had belonged to Truman. But all sign of that enemy had been wiped away.

"Monroe." She nodded. They'd spent the last two weeks prepping for their upcoming travels. Both had turned down the need to practice with their new partner, citing that they already knew how to fight together. Surprisingly, at least to him, they'd being getting along fairly decently.

He returned the gesture. "Charlie. Did you help Miles get his man?"

"We did." Of course Miles had shared their little con with Bass. As much as her uncle might not want to admit it, he and Bass were on the way to becoming best friends once again. "I don't think we'll see him around town again."

"Good." She cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah, I have a lot of things to make up for, Charlie, but I've never beaten a woman I was dating."

"But you've beaten women. Nora was tortured, dumbass. Do you think I didn't know about that?" OK, so the getting along thing was a work in progress.

The guilt of what he'd done to Nora was still fresh in his mind, but in that moment, he'd honestly believed it was the only solution. And he could recognize now that he'd been teetering on the edge of insanity at the time. The torturing of Nora Clayton was the nadir of his presidency and just about wiped out the last trace of his humanity. But a trip to the Tower and being locked in a room with Rachel Matheson of all people had pulled him back from the brink. Saving Charlie for the first time had kick-started the beginning of his climb out of the lowest depths of hell.

Before he could respond, Blanchard waltzed in, motioning both of them into his office. They both sat opposite his desk, Bass ignoring the harsh stares Charlie was shooting his way. Somehow he figured the topic they'd just avoided was far from over. "What do you have for us, Frank?"

"Looks like the two of you are headed into Mexico." Great, cause everything had gone so well for him the last time he was south of the border. "The Mexicans are as interested in ridding the world of this Patriot problem as we are. Getting into the country shouldn't be a problem. We'll have the proper papers for you by the morning."

Bass nodded. "So who's the target?"

"A Patriot captain, name of James Carle." Blanchard shuffled through a few sheets of paper. "He hid out at a ranch east of Canyon Lake for a week or two, pretending to be a drifter looking for work. Bastard took off when wanted posters with his face went up all over Texas."

The Republic of Texas was serious about eliminating the Patriots. In an effort to get all their people involved, several talented sketch artists were hired to create wanted posters from any pre-existing pictures of the Patriot criminals. So far it had lead to more than a few promising leads.

"Where was the last place he was seen?" Charlie asked.

"In Texas, crossing over the border, but some intel from our southern neighbors suggests he's hiding out in a known crime town in Mexico." Crime towns had popped up all over after the Blackout. The republics had tried wiping them out, but they kept coming back. They were towns for felons, run by felons. Law had no place there, which kept both Texas and Mexico officially out. But a black ops team wasn't held to the same standards. "Now as you know, we're not so particular on the wanted dead or alive part. But there is a bit of a delicate matter here."

Bass raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"

"We don't just have Carle to worry about." Blanchard looked between Charlie and Bass. "Seems the little shit made off with the rancher's daughter."

"He kidnapped her?" Bass asked.

"Well...not quite." Bass couldn't tell if it was disgust or embarrassment on the big man's face. "She, uh, left with him...on her own."

"Why in the world-"

"She fell for him," Charlie said, and both men turned to her. At their surprised looks, she shrugged. "What? I've seen the posters. He's a Patriot, but he's a good-looking Patriot."

Bass shook his head. "Charlie, that seems highly unlikely."

"No, she's right," Blanchard said. Bass rolled his eyes at the cocky look she shot him. "According to the rancher, Derek Middlebrook, James Carle spent the week lazing around and seducing his daughter."

"How old is she?" Charlie asked.

"Eighteen."

She nodded. "She's lived her whole life probably on the same ranch, traveling within the same 5 miles of her home. She never got to see anything else, and suddenly this attractive guy comes along? It's no wonder she left with him."

She sounded as if she was speaking from experience; as Bass studied her face, he realized that she probably was. She'd grown up in a secluded little town in Wisconsin, if his inability to locate her father was any indication. And considering her family name, the wanderlust he saw in her now was probably even stronger when she was a teenager. But breaking free from that sort of life can be difficult, unless something or someone helps you along. He briefly wondered if she ever would have left her little village if his militia hadn't given her the impetus to make a move.

"Well, our rancher Middlebrook would like her back, you catch my drift?" Both Charlie and Bass nodded. "Whatever happens to him happens. But try to get the girl back safe and sound, alright?"

"We'll try." Bass glanced over at Charlie. "It's probably a good thing you'll be there."

"Why?"

"Because it might help her to have someone in her age group...who also happens to be a female."

"That's what I was thinking too," Blanchard confirmed with a nod at Charlie. "Look, the girl's confused, Miss Matheson. It can't hurt to have someone sympathetic to what she's going through."

Charlie snorted. "I have about as much in common with her as a dog has with a cat."

"That's probably true now, Charlie. This girl hasn't seen half of what you have. But once, you were a girl just as eager to see the world." Bass didn't want to piss her off before they even set off on their first trip.

She was silent for a moment. "True. Until some ass who was trying to rule the world came along and uprooted me from my life."

Yeah, so much for that. An already angry Charlie was going to make an excellent travelling companion. "I wasn't even there. It was Neville."

"Was there any difference back then? You gave the orders." She glared at him as she stood. "What time do we leave, Blanchard?"

"First thing in the morning. We've brought your horses down from Austin. They'll be watered and ready to go as soon as the sun rises." They'd spent a few days selecting some of the finest horses Bass had ever seen. Frank wanted his Patriot hunters to have excellent steeds on their missions. "We figure the trip down to where you need to cross the border should take about a full week. The town of Fortaleza is only about a half day's ride once you pass into Mexico."

"Great," she said, turning and heading out the door. "See you in the morning, partner."

He cringed at the way she said the last word. Apparently, Blanchard found the entire thing hysterical. "Well, you picked yourself a hell of a partner."

"I'm a glutton for punishment." He shot the old man a sarcastic grin.

"I think she's going to work out real good. You might have been right about having a woman along. That girl's perfect for you."

"Yeah, perfect." He just hoped he didn't piss her off enough that she'd pick up the vendetta she'd dropped long ago. All he needed was to wake up to another Matheson trying to shoot him.

* * *

Before heading home for the night, Charlie stopped by her grandfather's house. Miles had moved in immediately upon their return after the capturing of Davis. At first, it was simply to help her grandfather tend to Rachel right after she'd been stabbed. Now, a few weeks later, it didn't appear as if Miles had any intention of leaving. Just as Charlie had requested, the two of them really seemed to be giving it a try.

Considering the tension between her and her mother, she didn't just walk straight in. Her knock was quickly answered by Miles. "Hey."

"Glad you came." He stood back, allowing her to pass by. "So where you headed?"

"Mexico. Probably be gone about two and a half weeks."

He followed her into the kitchen. "You got everything you need?"

She turned to him with a bemused sigh. "Miles, this is unofficial official business for Texas. They've made sure we're well equipped."

"Alright, alright," he said, pouring her a finger of whiskey. "Overprotective uncle backing off. Where the hell did you learn to be so sarcastic, kid?"

She snorted, barely holding back from spitting out her drink. Yeah, in her family, sarcasm was a badge of honor. "When I figure that out, I'll let you know."

She plopped in a seat at the table and he followed suit. "So..."

"So..." She drew the word out, her eyes on the glass in front of her. "How is she?"

"She's the same." He sighed. "Three weeks ago, she was stabbed in the stomach, then a week later, her daughter drops the bomb that she not only signed on to track down the remaining Patriots, but she's doing it with someone she hates."

"I'm not going to apologize for that, Miles."

"I don't expect you to." He gulped down some whiskey. "But give her a little bit of time to come to grips with it."

Thinking about it, she supposed she could cut her mom a break. "Okay."

He stared at her for a moment. "I'm not taking her side, Charlie."

"I know you're not." They stared at one another for a minute. She was fairly certain she loved her uncle as much as she'd always loved her father. And what she had with Miles was even better than what she had with her mother. What did that say about her? "I guess I should see her while I'm here."

"She's in her room. Want me to come up with you?"

Charlie shook her head. "I'm not going to stay long. I have to get some sleep."

Making her way up to her mother's room, the room she now shared with Miles, Charlie thought over the upcoming trip. She hadn't spent a lot of time with just Monroe for awhile now. True, they'd returned to Willoughby together, but that was more than 9 months ago. Miles, and Connor while he was here, always seemed to be around them so they were never really alone. If she hadn't known better, she might have thought she had butterflies in her stomach. Though that was ridiculous.

She'd never been afraid of Monroe, not even really back in Philadelphia. And she'd been fine as they made their way home the first time, but now...maybe it was just because she had no idea how things were going to play out. True, this wasn't the same man she'd met in Philly or Vegas. They had a decent amount of experience fighting together; he'd saved her life on more than one occasion; hell, he'd even faced off against Neville when her life was on the line. But what the hell were they going to talk about?

Rachel was sitting up in bed, reading a book. "Hey, Mom."

"Charlie." Her mother took one look at her face and knew what she'd come for. "It's happening, isn't it? You're going out there...with him."

"I didn't come here to argue with you."

"Charlie, how can you do this? After everything that happened."

Sometimes, the sanctimonious tone of voice her mother used just pissed her the hell right off. But she'd come to say goodbye, not get into another giant fight. "There was a lot of stuff that happened that was bad, but there was some good stuff that you refuse to see. At the very least, we got Davis because he came through."

"Who then got away."

"Not his fault." She might still not be the biggest supporter of Monroe, but there was no way she was going to let Rachel blame him for Davis's escape. "We should be back in a few weeks. Listen to Grandpa, and don't fight Miles on every single thing, okay? He's doing his best."

"I know that." Her mother just refused to let it go. "It's you I'm worried about."

Running away was always her best defense against the stubborn woman. She smiled tightly. "I gotta go."

Charlie was up and out the door before Rachel could utter another word. She loved her mother, but when she got this way, into this kind of mood, it could only lead to an argument. Running into Miles at the bottom of the stairs, she threw her arms around him. "Take care of each other. See you in a few."

Just as she reached the door, Miles called out to her. "Charlie...love you, kid."

Turning to look at him, she couldn't stop the beaming smile that crossed her lips. She wasn't sure Miles had ever said that to her before, no matter whether she instinctually knew it or not. To hear it out loud made her quite happy. Why was it that his approval and affection meant so much more to her than her own mother's?

"I love you too, Miles."

* * *

Bright and early the next morning, she met up with Monroe at the stables. He'd obviously been there for awhile as he and Blanchard's staff had the horses prepped and ready to go. Wordlessly, she nodded to him, hooking up her pack and climbing up onto her steed.

Now here they were an hour into their journey, and so far no words had been said. Generally, silence between them was easy going, but today, it just felt awkward. Maybe she'd made a huge mistake taking Monroe as her partner. It was going to be a rough couple of weeks if they couldn't speak to each other.

Bass had been thinking the same thing. "Listen, Charlie, I know there are a lot of issues here. But this...this complete and total quiet is going to get really old, really fast. You may not entirely like it, but we're partners now."

"Yeah, I'm aware."

Her sarcasm rankled him a little. "If you just wanted to be pissed off at me, why'd you ever agree to this?"

He had no way of knowing that she had defended him once or twice to her mother over the past couple of weeks. But that was just standing up against Rachel's blind hatred. Opening up to this man was something else entirely. Was it even worth it to try? "I don't...want to just be pissed at you. But you have to admit, the two of us have a pretty bad track record."

"Fair enough."

Keeping her horse at the same pace as his, she looked at him. "I don't really know you. You were the enemy for a long time. And then you just...weren't. And then you kind of were again and then you...weren't. It's confusing as hell."

He chuckled. "You think you're confused."

A tiny reluctant smile crossed her face. This was the most honest she had ever been with him. "It's hard trying to figure out everything that happened."

"I understand that. I do." He took a moment to plot out his next words carefully. "Charlie, you don't have to necessarily like me, but in this situation...we're alone out here. We have to rely on each other, even more than we did on the way to Willoughby."

"I get the concept of partnership, Monroe." She'd partnered with Miles on many a mission.

"Well, partners share things. It's a way to build trust." She didn't need to know that he'd heard that on a TV show before the Blackout because it was the honest to God truth.

"So what are we supposed to do? Sit around chatting like those ladies I see in the coffee shop?" The image those words presented in her mind sent her into a fit of the giggles.

The sound was so foreign to Bass's ears that he couldn't hold back his own laughter. He wasn't sure he'd ever heard Charlie giggle before. It was adorable. "Not exactly. But maybe we could raise the white flag, get to know each other a little bit."

"Maybe...build trust, huh?"

"That's the idea." Their eyes caught as they often did. He was never sure why, out of all the people they spent time around, the two of them seemed able to connect by simply looking at each other. Maybe it was because she didn't back down from a challenge and neither did he. It was a very efficient trait to have in a battle, locking eyes and knowing where to go from there. And this, hell he didn't even know what to call it...the only thing he could come up with was eyefucking, had gotten them out of more than a few tough situations.

"You go first, Monroe." She turned her head back to the trail, eyes facing forward as she waited for him to speak.

Shooting her a sideways glance, he waited for her reaction to his next words. "You know, Charlie, you can call me Bass."

There was none. "Nah, I'm good with Monroe."

Shaking his head at her stubbornness, he wondered over what he should share. He could have chosen something easy, something simple and frivolous which meant nothing, but that felt like a cop out. No, he'd asked for trust. "When Texas had me on death row, I was given a last request. I asked for Miles, just to see what was left of my family one last time. And he told me...that he knew where my son was, where Connor was. That he and Emma had taken Connor to get him away from me. I felt...betrayed...all over again, by my best friend."

She held her tongue, refusing to voice the snippy little comments his words sparked in her. She wasn't just her mother's daughter; she was Ben Matheson's as well. Instead of focusing on her inner Rachel, she harnessed the calm demeanor and sense of fairness she'd inherited from her father. "Why?"

"Why did I feel betrayed?" She nodded. "Because, Charlie, he hid my son from me."

"Do you think it's possible that he was trying to protect your son from the man you had become?" She heard the huff and without even looking at him knew he was exasperated. "I'm not picking a fight. I'm simply asking."

"Don't you think I should have been given a chance to know my kid? Maybe things could have been different-maybe I could have been different if they'd only given me a chance."

A twinge of something she wasn't sure she liked passed through her. He sounded sort of...broken, something she'd called him on the last time they'd traveled together. Back then, she'd thought he was making it all up; all these months later though, she wasn't so sure she believed that anymore. "He had to have a good reason."

"Yeah, I was 'off the rails' according to Miles." Bass was silent for a few minutes. When he spoke again, he just sounded tired. "Maybe they were right. Maybe I would have just destroyed the kid. Even earlier than the rest of the people in his life did."

She wasn't exactly sure how Monroe and Connor had left things. Charlie discovered she had little to no use for Monroe's son the second he wouldn't return with them to Willoughby to help save the town. A few weeks before, she would have certainly said that Connor would put his ass on the line before Monroe. But reality proved her wrong. "Connor made his own choices."

"He was raised by a drug lord, Charlie. He never even had a chance," Bass said. "But I guess that's better than being raised by a dictator, right?"

She sighed. This little getting to know one another stunt was just going to get them into another fight. He would get testy which would lead to her getting pissed, and boom...she and Monroe were right back at square one. "I didn't say that, did I?"

"But you're thinking it, right?"

"Actually, I wasn't." If there was one thing she really hated, it was someone putting words into her mouth. "If you must know what I was thinking, I felt a little bad for you, believe it or not. And you're right. You never had a chance with him. But Miles obviously felt he was better off hidden away from you."

"And Miles always makes the right decision."

"I didn't say that either." She rolled her eyes, exasperation growing. "Jeez, Monroe, stop it. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You're not the only one who's had it rough. No one asks for bad things to happen in their lives, they just do."

He blanched as almost the exact same words he'd uttered to Miles years before came out of her mouth. Of course she had no way of knowing he'd lost a wife and child, so she really couldn't understand how terrible it was for Miles to hide his surviving child away. Was it worth it to share the rest, or was he just going to piss her off even more? He couldn't tell her all of it; he just couldn't.

"You're right. No one asks for that," he said. "But the one thing I always wanted was a family of my own. Miles knew that, Charlie. I did a lot of stuff wrong, that's very true. But I had feelings once upon a time. I wasn't always the monster you think I am."

She had no idea what she was supposed to say to that. The conversation had escalated so fast, she wasn't sure how to pull it back into comfortable territory. "Monroe, I..."

"Sorry, I'm sorry." He sighed. "Too much, too fast."

"Slightly." There was an awkward silence for a few moments, but then she heard him chuckle. She joined him. "So, how's this sharing thing working out?"

The question sent him into a full blown laugh. She found she liked it, liked the sound of it. It made him seem...human. "Yeah, Charlie, it's really great."

"Listen, Monroe, I get that you're angry about Connor." A year ago, she would have never suspected she could ever feel any sort of sympathy for Sebastian Monroe; she wasn't even sure she liked that she felt it now. The feelings were there regardless. "But I think maybe the other people involved were just trying to keep him safe. And maybe that didn't work out so well either. But whatever decisions he makes now aren't on you."

"Not sure that makes me feel any better." He glanced over at her. "But I appreciate that you're at least trying to."

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it."

"I won't." He wouldn't call her bluff on the fact that she might not hate him quite as much as she used to. Let her keep up the tough as nails facade if she needed to. "It's your turn, by the way."

"I think we're good here."

"Come on, Charlie." She shook her head. "I've never known you to be a coward."

She turned to him, their eyes locking, hers full of ire. "I'm not a coward."

"Yeah," he drawled. "Prove it."

Glaring at him for a minute, she finally gave in. "Fine. When we went to Austin, your son asked me about Jason. And I told him that the only person on the planet I trusted less than Jason was him."

"I bet he loved that." Bass scoffed. His kid had obviously had the hots for Charlie.

She smirked, shooting him her best sarcastic Matheson smile. "I'm sure he did."

They rode in silence for a few more minutes when something occurred to him. "Wait, you told Connor he was the only one you trusted less than Jason?"

"Yep."

"You trusted me more than both of them?"

She didn't answer, just shot him that enigmatic look she sometimes used on him. Kicking her heels into her steed's side, she took off at a slow trot, putting some distance between them. He was happy for the separation. He'd wanted a little more camaraderie between them, but he hadn't counted on revealing so much.

The rest of their ride went by in relative silence. He couldn't be sure about her, but his mind kept replaying their conversation over and over in his head. He'd revealed too much, he was sure of it. But maybe she'd revealed more than she intended to as well.

It was later that night, after they'd made camp, that she asked him another question about his son. As it was his watch first, she was already in her bedroll when she spoke. "When did Miles take Connor to Mexico?"

Bass was taken aback by the question. He sort of thought she was already asleep. "I don't know all the specifics, Charlie. I think he said he'd hadn't really heard from Connor in about 8 years. Why?"

"No reason," she said, then turned over and fell silent once again.

* * *

 **Their mission will continue in the next chapter, which I promise is already written. I'll be posting it in a day or two.**

 **Please leave a comment if you'd be so kind.**


	3. Hells Bells

**Here's the rest of their mission. Hope you enjoy. :)**

 **Thanks to all the people who commented, favorited, followed, kudoed, and bookmarked. I really appreciate it.**

 **I own nothing of Revolution, but I promise I am taking really good care of Charlie and Bass.**

* * *

Hell's bells, the temperature's high  
Hell's bells, across the sky  
Hell's bells, they're takin' you down  
Hell's bells, they're draggin' you around – _Hells Bells – AC/DC_

* * *

Setting off early the next morning, their ride to the ranch only took a few hours. Arriving before lunch, they were shown into the dilapidated old house by an elderly man. Bass was sure that the place had seen far better days; before the Blackout, it must have been magnificent.

The man escorted them to a large open room with some dusty chairs and sofas; a crumbling brick fireplace took up almost one entire wall. The elegance had faded away, but the air of luxury still lingered all these years later.

Derek Middlebrook looked a bit like the house; like he might have once been a rugged, hearty man, but the disappearance of his daughter had taken its toll. Wearily, he sat in a chair opposite Bass and Charlie, his eyes sunken and hollow. "Glad Texas is mopping up these Patriot scum. Someone had better start doing it."

"Can you tell us what happened?" Bass asked. It had been a long time since he'd questioned someone without torture playing a part.

"Bastard showed up here, said he was looking for work. Looking for a place to hide out is more like it. And he got it too, idiot that I was. I let him stay in my barn and do a few jobs about the house." The old man scowled. "He didn't do too much, other than turn my Beth against me."

"Beth?" Charlie asked. "Is that your daughter's name?"

The man nodded. Bass and Charlie exchanged a glance. "So when he left..."

"I was getting ready to kick him out as it was, seeing as how he sniffed around my daughter and all. But then those posters started showing up at the general store and at the bar, and he took off as quick as lightning." Middlebrook glanced away, a sheen of tears in his eyes. He reminded Charlie so much of her grandfather, the pain on his face mirroring what she'd seen on Gene's the night Marion died. "Took my girl right out of her home in the middle of the night."

"We have an idea of where he's going, but is there anything else you can tell us about him?" Bass said. "Anything that might help us track him down?"

"Wish I did, but no...not really."

"What about her?" Charlie asked. "Is there something we can say to her to convince her to come home?"

"Just tell her I love her."

Leaving the coolness of the big stone house, they walked back into the bright Texas sunshine, shielding their eyes with their hands. Charlie looked over at Monroe. "What do you think?"

"I think we know nothing more now than we did an hour ago," he said. Glancing around the starkness of the ranch, he wasn't so sure getting Beth Middlebrook back was going to be all that easy. "She grew up here. You were right, Charlie. This is hardly the place for a young girl."

She shrugged. "I would bet she was lonely. I would bet going off with Carle seemed like a great idea. What I don't get...is why would he take her along? You don't think he actually cares-"

"No." He cut her off, eyes sharply blue as he stared out at the harsh, dry landscape. "He doesn't care about her."

"Then why?"

He turned to look at her, his eyes locked on hers as he spoke. "A good hostage works every time."

She jolted at the words, and immediately hated herself for it. Back in Philly, she hadn't shown an iota of fear to General Monroe as he held her and Danny prisoner at the business end of a gun. And now, hearing those words come out of the mouth of her new partner, she'd flinched.

To his credit, he didn't call her on it, only turned his attention to his steed. "The terrain's a little rocky getting out of here to the south. We'd do better to just walk the horses for a little bit."

She found herself more than a little bit grateful that he'd dropped the whole subject. Nodding, she took the reins and led her mount after Monroe. They'd only gotten a few hundred yards away, when he murmured her name. "Charlie."

Looking up, she found his eyes riveted on her...and then she saw the message behind them. Someone was on their trail. He signaled for her to go on forward; taking his reins into her other hand, she led both horses down the short rocky slope they were descending. She'd worked with Monroe enough to know he was circling around behind them, getting the jump on their follower. Off to her left, she heard a thump and a loud 'ouch' before Monroe came barreling through the underbrush, a squirming figure in his grasp.

Tossing the guy towards her, he whipped out his gun and pointed it at their tailgater. "Jesus, you're just a kid. Check him. See if we've got a cadet here."

"I'm not with the Patriots," the kid cried. Unable to his see his face from her position, Charlie cocked her head at the familiarity of his voice. Was he from Willoughby? "I swear."

"And we're just supposed to believe you?" Bass sneered.

"I don't have the numbers." The kid pulled his eyelid down and stepped in closer to Bass, before turning to face her. "Charlie?"

"Michael?" Her voice was full of surprise.

Bass flicked the safety on his gun, then swung the muzzle between the two of them. "Uh, you two know one another?"

"We did. I helped his brother escape from a consignment boat," she said. Michael was 16 now and looked just as stubborn as he had two years ago.

Bass grew deathly still. "Ah, well...that's good."

The kid spun towards him. "I know who you are. Stories of General Monroe helping the Texas Republic have even spread out here. I'm not after you."

Finding it humorous that the kid even thought to make a veiled threat, he forced down a smile. "I appreciate that."

"Well, you're after the Patriots, right? That's who I really want." He looked back to Charlie. "Peter moved us to Texas after you left. He said the climate was better, that we'd be safer out of the Monroe Republic. He got all of us here and then about 9 months later, the Patriots came. He hid us, but they found him. And this time when they took him, there wasn't any getting him back. He had these numbers in his eye. He wasn't my brother anymore."

Charlie's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry, Michael. What happened?"

"He was killed...in a battle against some clan members. I followed him and watched it...from up on a hillside." Charlie's heart broke for him. She'd watched her own brother die and wouldn't wish it upon anyone. "I ran off and wound up here. Derek let me sleep in his barn, do some odd jobs for him from time to time. And then that Carle came and took Beth. I want to help you get her back."

Bass rolled his eyes. "Alright listen, kid, you need to go back to the ranch and stay there. We've got a job to do."

"No, I'm going." Michael looked at Charlie, eyes pleading. "I can help. Charlie, you know I can."

"Michael, this may be even more dangerous than the last time." She rustled his hair and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Let us go find Beth and bring her back."

"Don't do that," the young man said, anger in his voice. "Don't treat me like a kid. Let me help you...please."

The plea she'd uttered so many times in her own youth got to her. Her eyes met Monroe's, blue riveting on blue, and an entire conversation unfolded as if they were speaking aloud. She saw the exact moment when he conceded. Sighing, he grabbed the reins to his horse and started off. "He's yours to watch, Charlotte."

Swinging an arm around Michael's shoulders, she led him after Monroe.

* * *

They reached the border in another five days, Charlie sharing her horse with Michael while they bonded over tales of their youths and growing up in the Blackout. Bass's eyes were always watching them, reluctantly laughing at some of the stories they told. She felt immediately better having Michael with them; his presence stopped anymore awkwardness from springing up between her and Monroe. But as gruff as Monroe tried to act, as if Michael was a royal pain in the ass, she could tell he was softening towards the kid. It was impossible to dislike the kind-hearted young man.

Passing into Mexico was easy as could be, the proper paperwork making it a breeze to enter the country; they claimed Michael as a servant and there were no questions asked. As Blanchard said, it was less than half a day's ride to the village of Fortaleza. Wanting to get a bird's eye view of the town before trying to hunt down Carle, Bass moved Charlie and Michael off the main roadways and into the rough terrain of the desert.

Fortaleza nestled in the shadow of a few smaller mesas, the elevated rock giving the three of them a chance to scope out the area. Laying low, Bass and Charlie passed binoculars back and forth between them.

"This would be so much easier if we didn't have to get the girl. I'd just shoot him."

Charlie glanced at Bass from the corner of her eye. "And that would be a great way to introduce ourselves to all the rest of the criminals living down there, right?"

"I didn't say I was going to do it, **Miles**." She rolled her eyes at the emphasis he placed on her uncle's name. "There's a guy with a gun at the entrance to the town."

"Is he going to be a problem?" she asked.

"Don't think so. I suspect he's not really a guard. Probably just checking out the people coming through. Any lawmen and he'll send up a signal. We should be fine. Alright, let's get down there." He stood, slipping the binoculars into his bag as the three climbed back down to their steeds. "Charlie, let Michael have your horse."

"Excuse me?" she asked, her voice full of the contempt she sometimes reserved just for him. "And what am I suppose to ride?"

"You're with me."

"What?" The contempt was morphing into outright anger.

"We're riding into town as a couple." Her eyes widened, but he cut her off before she could argue. "Why did you think I said it would be a good idea to have a woman on missions? It makes it easier for us to slide into places unnoticed."

"So I'm along to be a part of your disguise?"

He sighed; that wasn't the reason he'd partnered with her, and she knew it. But she liked getting under his skin whenever she could. "Charlie, you're a highly skilled and talented fighter. That's why you're here. Now just get on the damn horse."

The fire in her eyes told him this was far from over. He didn't care; they'd fight about it later. Right now, he just needed her to go along with their cover. Despite her irritation, she crawled up onto his horse. Not a word was said as he slid into the saddle behind her.

"Just go along with what I say, you both got it?" Michael agreed, Charlie only shaking her head once in a terse nod. "And, kid, you stay close to us. And you listen to anything she or I tell you, understand?"

"Understood," Michael said as they set off.

The armed man stood as they neared the town; he pumped his shotgun upon their approach but didn't point it directly at them. Bass nodded at him. "Wonder if you might be able to help us out?"

"With what, amigo?" The grizzled man spit a wad of tobacco out of the corner of his mouth. He was older, his skin wrinkled from the sun. "We don't exactly like questions around here."

"Not much of a question really," Bass said. "My woman and I ran into a little bit of trouble north of the border. A friend of ours came down here a few weeks ago. We're hoping to catch up with him. Any one new come through recently?"

"And that's not a question?" The man squinted at them.

Bass scoffed. "Just looking for a friend."

The old man stared at them for a minute, before tipping his head towards the far end of Fortaleza. "Only Gringo down here lives outside town, half a mile. He and his senorita been here...a few weeks."

"Thanks," Bass said, kicking his heels into the flank of his steed. He made sure Michael was close as he guided his horse down the main street. The last thing any of them needed was to get involved in a firefight in a town full of criminals.

Once they cleared the village and got into more open ground, Bass's mind eased a bit. At least it did until Charlie started squirming in the saddle. "What are you doing?"

"We made it through town. There's no reason I can't get back onto my own horse now."

"Charlie, relax. We'll be getting off the horses as soon as we get out there anyway," he said.

"It's not so easy to relax with you all..." she trailed off.

"With me all what?"

"Nothing." He could practically feel the tension emanating off of her. "You take up too much room on the saddle."

"Sorry," he drawled in her ear. There was definitely more to it, but he chose to cut her a break and not press.

They could see the house well before they neared it. Small ranch-style home, probably owned by a well-to-do family before the Blackout. Bass turned his horse off the main pathway, Michael following right behind him, and hid behind a pile of loose boulders. Charlie jumped down as soon as they stopped; Bass tried not to be annoyed at her eagerness to get away from him. Slipping from the saddle, he looked at the young kid. "Alright, Charlie and I are going on from here. I need you to stay put."

"Wait, you can't just sideline me," Michael protested.

"I'm not, kid," Bass said. "I need you to watch this outer perimeter. Make sure no one gets past you, alright. Can you do that?"

Michael nodded, accepting the gun Bass handed him. Charlie hugged the kid before the two of them snuck away from the boulders and towards the house. He moved them into a position that kept them hidden by a copse of trees. "So what's the plan?"

She'd been quite silent since their ride together on his horse, but when the time came to go into battle, her head was instantly back in the game. It was one of the reasons he'd chosen her as a partner. Her ability to focus as soon as the right time came. "I don't care if this Patriot makes it, Charlie. We get the girl, get her out, do whatever's necessary to subdue him."

"Agreed." She nodded. "There's movement in the house."

"Good, so they're home. See those doors on the back side." He gave her a minute to see where he indicated. "You go in there. I'm pretty sure I can get in from the front. Check the place out. If you see the girl and have a chance, get her the hell out of there. I'll take the Patriot."

"Or if **you** see the girl, you get her out of there. I'll take the Patriot." She shot him the smile that exclaimed how proud she was to annoy him yet again. This time, he wasn't taking the bait.

"Yeah, of course." She rolled her eyes when he refused to acknowledge the insult. Motioning with two fingers, he moved them out from under the tree line. He saw her take off, staying low and out of sight. Damn, she really had learned a lot from her time fighting with him and Miles.

Using all the military training he'd had, he slipped through the trees, stealthily moving across the yard and to the front door. Crouching down, he carefully turned the knob, opening the door just a crack and glancing into the main room. Seeing nothing, he entered the house, gently closing the door and standing, only to hear the cock of a gun behind him. Yeah, so much for years of training.

What he was unable to see from his position by the door was an open window from living room to kitchen. As he turned, he came face to face with a pretty young girl, a shotgun in her arms pointed directly at him. "Who the hell are you?"

He raised his hands in surrender. "Beth...my name is Bass. I'm not here to hurt you."

She scoffed. "That's why you broke into my house with a gun?"

He slipped the safety on and slid the gun into the back waistband of his jeans, then returned his hands above his head. "I'm here because of your father, because he wants you to come home."

"I don't believe you...my father could care less about me. If he really loved me-" Beth stopped when the muzzle of a gun pressed against her temple. "Don't shoot me."

"Lower the gun," Charlie said, taking the weapon from Beth as soon as she complied. "Good. Now just relax. What he said is true. We're here because of your father, not to hurt you."

Bass dropped his hands. "We're taking you back to Texas. Your father is worried about you. Now, where's your boyfriend?"

"He's out. And I'm not going back with you." The pout and snotty behavior made Charlie just want to smack the girl upside the head. If she'd ever been this annoying to Miles, she seriously owed him an apology. She met Bass's eyes above Beth's head and knew he was just as frustrated.

"OK, we'll do it the hard way." Bass stepped forward, pulling handcuffs out of his back pocket. Slapping them on Beth's wrists, he pushed the girl towards the front door. "You're going back to Texas. We'll get you strapped up on a horse and then just wait around for loverboy to get back."

"Stop...I'm not leaving." Beth squirmed as Bass shoved her forward. "You can't make me go."

"Yeah?" Bass said. "Watch me."

Bass opened the front door and a bullet rang out, the shot coming from behind a tree in the front yard. Damn, the son of a bitch had been on the premises all along. Yanking Beth back, Bass slammed the door shut and dragged the screaming girl to the ground. His eyes immediately sought out Charlie, making sure she was safe; even though he knew her instincts were spot on, he was relieved to see her hunkered down behind the couch. Their gazes locked and he tilted his head towards the front of the house; she responded with a nod, crawling over to the window and knocking out the glass with the butt of her gun. Within seconds, she was firing at their assailant.

"Good thing your boyfriend's such a suck shot," Bass said as he unlocked the handcuffs and pushed Beth against the front wall below the window, positioning himself at the opposite end from Charlie. Although for the life of him, he couldn't figure out how someone who'd been military could be so bad at shooting. Of course Carle was an officer; it occurred to him that a large part of the Patriot army might have been lead by men who'd been desk jockeys before the Blackout.

"Whoever's in my house," Carle called out, "get the hell out. Leave now and I won't kill you."

Charlie looked over at Bass. So the guy had no clue who they were or what they were there for. **That** he could use to their advantage.

Unless of course some dim-witted blonde gave them away.

Beth popped her head up and shouted out the window. "James, they're here because of my father! He sent them to bring me back!"

Bass huffed, hauling the girl down out of the line of fire, but he quickly realized it was too silent outside. Peeking out the window, he saw Carle running for his horse. "Oh, hell. He knows we're from Texas."

"So what, Monroe?"

"I'm guessing he knows why we're here." Jumping to his feet, he hurried for the door. No way was he losing the son of a bitch now. "Charlie, he's on the move!"

Bass was never sure exactly how the next sequence of events played out. He was up and running after Carle, who was shooting at the house as he mounted his horse. Bass ducked out of the way and the bullet missed. Charlie was out the door right after him, Bass's shouts allowing her to escape the incoming gunfire as well. What neither had expected was for Beth to follow them out. The first bullet caught her in the side, just above her stomach, the second in the shoulder. But she barely faltered as she kept racing towards her boyfriend, shouting his name as she ran.

What happened in that yard in Mexico would haunt Charlie for years. Beth made it all the way to Carle's horse before he aimed the gun at the girl and fired directly into her chest. "Sorry, baby, you're no use to me anymore."

Beth fell backwards, landing on the ground with a thump as Carle circled his horse around and rode off. Bass growled and leapt up, running after him at breakneck speed. He ran up the wooden fence surrounding the yard and vaulted onto the back of the horse, dragging Carle off and slamming him to the ground. The two men rolled around in the dust, until Bass finally got the upper hand and snapped Carle's neck. Standing, he spit down on the corpse of the dead man.

Making his way back to the house, he saw Charlie cradling the head of Beth Middlebrook. Bright blue eyes looked up at him, tears glistening in the afternoon sun. "Is she..."

Charlie nodded. "Yes."

"Damn it," Bass swore, kicking a stone all the way across the yard. Breathing deeply, he forced himself to calm down. "I'm sorry."

Charlie looked at him in confusion. "It wasn't your fault."

He dropped to the ground beside his partner. "Did she say anything?"

"She said...he loved me." Bass shook his head. The poor girl actually thought the bastard loved her right until the end. "We were supposed to take her home, Monroe."

"We are taking her home, Charlie." He got up on his knees, carefully sliding his arms under Beth and gently hoisting her up into his arms. Charlie followed him silently, glancing only briefly in the direction of the dead Patriot.

* * *

They rode out of Mexico, swift as the wind, happy to leave and get back to Texas. Charlie was back on the horse with Michael; the kid had been beside himself when he'd found Bass carrying Beth's body back to their rendezvous point. Fighting her own sadness, she'd held onto him as Bass gingerly strapped the girl to the back of his horse.

The five days it took to get back to the Middlebrook ranch were restrained, a hush settling over the three weary travelers. At night, they kept a careful vigil, determined to keep any scavengers away from the body. But it was when they finally delivered Beth to her father that Charlie struggled the most. Michael had been unable to face the old rancher, so it fell to Charlie and Bass. Bass had offered to do it alone, but she insisted she needed to be there as well. Later, she regretted that choice. The man was so overwhelmed with grief that she could barely stand it. She'd wanted to save the girl; she'd wanted a happy ending for someone's family.

That night, after Michael had fallen into a fitful sleep, she sat off on her own, staring up into the star-filled sky. Watching her over the fire for more than an hour, Bass finally couldn't stand it anymore. He walked over to her and crouched down. "Charlie, do you want to talk about it?"

She sighed, the sound angry. "Go away."

"Listen, I know Middlebrook was upset, and I know it bothered you. I just want you to know I'm here if you want to talk."

The pain she'd been burying since they'd visited the ranch bubbled up and over. "Fine. You want to talk about it? That was one of the most horrible things I've ever had to witness. It reminded me so much of watching my brother die that I thought I might throw up at one point."

Bass had no response. What right did he have to even speak her brother's name? "Charlie, I, uh..."

"What, Monroe? I thought you wanted to talk. I thought you wanted to share things, build trust. You know what, forget it." She stood up, stalking away from the camp.

He wasn't sure he wanted to follow but knew he had to. She hadn't gotten very far; he found her on a fallen log a few yards away. "Charlie-"

She cut him off. "Beth took off with that Patriot. I know she left willingly, but she was an innocent, young girl. She grew up here in the middle of Nowhere, Texas. The truth is she had no idea what she was doing when she left home to follow Carle. He might as well have kidnapped her. The same way your soldiers kidnapped my brother."

When he said nothing, her rage exploded. Jumping up, she lit into him. "You don't want to talk about that, do you? You want to share things, but not if it paints you in a bad light. Do you know how Neville treated my brother on the way to Philadelphia? Do you know what he did to him?"

"Neville filed a report." Bass's head was down, his entire demeanor subdued. "I don't know if it was the whole truth."

She scoffed. "Knowing Neville it wasn't even half the truth. Do you know he beat him? That Neville and his soldiers were having a fighting match, and even though Danny didn't want to get involved, Neville coerced him. He was stronger and he beat my little brother up. Do you know he left him alone with a soldier who taunted him and refused to give him water and hit him with a bag full of rocks?"

"I didn't know that."

"No, you didn't, did you, Monroe? You have no idea what my little brother went through on the way to **your** city." She crept closer to him, her movements reminding him of a jungle cat stalking its prey. "Do you know what your soldiers did in **your** militia? How they treated people in **your** republic?"

She was staring at him, her eyes boring into him. There was no way she would accept silence as an answer. "I knew...some of it. But I...I didn't..."

"Care," she spat. "You didn't care. You ignored everything going on, unless it interfered with your quest for power."

Bass swallowed, his throat dry as a bone. He hadn't wanted things to be like this. He understood she hadn't forgiven him, but he hadn't realized she still held so much animosity towards him. A part of him sort of hoped that over the past nine months they'd worked together enough to bury some of the past. Apparently, he was very wrong. But every ounce of her hatred was deserved.

"Charlie, do you want out of this arrangement?" he asked.

"What?"

"I can't imagine being anywhere near me is enjoyable for you." He understood; he still despised the drunk driver who'd killed his family. "I'm not even sure why you decided to give it a try. I understand you want to wipe out the Patriots, and I'll make sure Blanchard hooks you up with the best partner available."

She frowned. "Are you giving up on me?"

"What? No, of course not!" How could she even think that? "I don't want you to have to look at me every day and remember all the terrible things I've done to you."

She stared at him for a minute, and it was like he could see the anger oozing out of her. "I thought you wanted me to share, Monroe. I didn't think that meant only the easy stuff."

His eyes widened. "No, it doesn't."

"I still have a lot of anger towards you. For the things you did. For what you let that republic become. You can't just wave a magic wand and make it all go away."

"I didn't expect to."

"But you have come through, more than once. And you have saved my life, more than once." She looked away before turning back towards him, their eyes locking, both a silvery blue in the light of the full moon. "For some reason, the one thing I do trust is that you'll have my back."

"I promised you I would." Although he'd been trying to convince her to become his partner at the time, he'd meant every word he'd said to her back in Blanchard's office.

"I don't know any of these other Patriot hunters. I think I'll just stick with the devil I know."

He nodded. "Well, alright."

The conversation ended as quickly as it had begun. Being that it was her shift, he figured she was close enough to their camp to hear and see what she needed to. Before he headed back through the trees, he turned back to her. "Charlie?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry about Danny. And your father."

She gasped, words escaping her for a minute. "I don't think you've ever said that to me before."

"I should have." He'd apologized to her mother, her grandfather, probably even to Miles, but he hadn't offered the same courtesy to her. "But I guess I thought you might call me on it. Like you did back in Pottsboro."

Pottsboro, where she'd nearly been raped and murdered in a bar. Until Sebastian Monroe showed up.

"I should have said it to you anyway."

Charlie wasn't sure how to respond. So she said the first thing she thought of. "I didn't expect you to react the way you did. When Carle killed Beth. I didn't expect you to go after him so viciously."

"Charlie, he'd just killed an eighteen year old girl."

"I know, but..."

"I told you, I'm not all monster..." He sighed. "Or maybe I'm just a monster who cares."

"Maybe," she agreed. "What I-I don't get is...I just don't understand her. She refused to believe that he was using her. She was lying there, dying, and she just kept saying that he loved her."

"She wanted to believe it. She needed to," he explained.

"I don't know why anyone would want to be in love. All it causes is pain and heartache."

He understood her reluctance. She didn't exactly have the best role models. Miles and Rachel had really screwed the pooch with how they'd handled their relationship. Even worse, Charlie had shot and killed the one boy she might have fallen for. Not that he was an expert on the subject by any means. "Yeah, love can suck. But it can also be an incredible, amazing experience."

Looking him up and down, she eyed him warily. "Do you think Duncan really loved you?"

"Duncan? No, not Duncan." Of course she asked about the warlord. That was the only woman she'd really ever seen him with. Other than her mother. And that was **so** a discussion he never wanted to have. He still cursed that damn dead end that even put him on Rachel's path that day. God, he wished he could take that whole **week** back. "We were friends. We slept together."

"So then who?" she asked, curiosity raised. "Emma?"

He took a deep breath. He really hadn't wanted to open up any sort of discussion of this nature. "It was all so long ago, Charlie. Maybe we can talk about it some other day."

It looked like she wanted to ask more, but she let it go. With a slight nod of thanks, he walked back to the camp. By the time Charlie rejoined them by the fire, he was long asleep.

* * *

Blanchard wasn't exactly pleased to find that Beth Middlebrook hadn't returned home to Texas alive, but it turned out Charlie and Bass were actually the only successful team. One duo had never located their man; the other caught theirs, only to have him escape on the way back home.

Michael returned with them to Willoughby, anxious to make a fresh start once again. He was staying with Bass until he could find a more permanent address. Bass was less than thrilled with the set-up.

Charlie stopped by a few days after they'd returned to make sure the young man was settling in, her knock quickly answered by Bass. "Hey, I came to see how Michael's doing."

"Oh, he's fine." She didn't miss the sarcasm in his voice. "The kid only needs three hours of sleep a night and he's raring to go."

She cocked an eyebrow as she looked over his appearance. "Yeah, you do seem a little exhausted."

"That's an understatement, Charlie."

"Hey, Charlie!" Michael came bounding over to give her a hug. "How are you?"

"Good, just wanted to see how it was going here."

"It's fine." He looked at Bass. "I was just thinking of moving some of the furniture in the living in a different way. I think it would give us a little more room in there."

Bass groaned. "There is no us, and it's my living room. I like it the way it is."

"Oh..." Michael faltered. "I, uh, already started moving some of it around."

Charlie had to hold back a laugh as Bass covered his face with his hands. "Put it back."

"OK." The kid shrugged at her before heading to the other room. "It was nice to see you, Charlie. Come back soon."

When Michael was out of earshot, she chuckled. "Kid likes you."

"I have no idea why." Bass yawned, eyeing her the whole time. "You know he's got a crush on you."

"What?"

"Yeah, Charlie, didn't you see the googly eyes he was just making at you."

"He was not." She turned her head back in the direction Michael had just gone. "You're delusional."

"You say that a lot, but it always turns out I'm right. That kid looks at you the way you and my son used to look at each other."

She frowned, glaring at him. "I never made googly eyes at Connor."

"Now who's being the delusional one?"

She sighed, opening the door. "Whatever, you believe what you want to believe. I have to go."

"Charlie?" She turned back to him and their eyes locked. It was weird having so much information pass in a glance; she already knew what he wanted to say before he spoke. "I'm glad we're still partners."

She supposed in a way she was too. Still didn't change what had happened. "I don't know if we did any good, Monroe. A girl died. We didn't save her."

"I know you think I'm a hardass monster, but we can't save everyone. If you think we're going to do that, you might as well get out now," he said.

"I get that." Miles had taught her that lesson a long time ago. "But I didn't want it to go like this. We didn't really help anyone."

"Oh, I don't know." Bass glanced towards his living room. "There's a kid in there who might beg to differ. He lost his brother to the Patriots. We can help him and others like him by taking out as many of those bastards as we can. And at the very least, Carle will never hurt anyone else."

"I suppose that's true."

"We can only do our best. One day at a time, Charlie," he said.

She nodded in agreement. "One day at a time."

* * *

 **Bass and Charlie will be back on another mission really soon. :)**

 **Please leave a comment if you'd be so kind.**


	4. Owner of a Lonely Heart

**OK, so yet again this is much, much later an update than I wanted or planned for it to be. Real life just keeps encroaching on my fanfiction time. So I apologize for the lateness of this.**

 **I own nothing of Revolution, but I love playing around in their world.**

 **Also, I'm not sure if anyone is still reading this and I realize there is a TON of new Revo fanfic out there to choose from, but if you do have a moment please leave a review if you can. :) And thank you so much to any of you still following this or any of my other stories.**

* * *

From the log of Frank Blanchard, acting President of the Republic of Texas:

The black ops experiment is going well. Five teams have now been dispatched, three managed to catch their targets. Can't ask for better odds than those.

The most surprising team...Charlie Matheson and Sebastian Monroe. I never would have put these two together in a million years, a sentiment it seems Miss Matheson shares, but for some reason it's working. They were sent to Mexico to capture a Patriot who had kidnapped a local rancher's daughter. They tracked him down and eliminated him, but not before he killed the girl. Wish that had gone differently. It was obvious the girl's death was weighing on Miss Matheson, and Monroe didn't seem none too happy about it either. I could tell they'd already discussed it and didn't want anyone else involved. Partnerships do sometimes bring people closer.

They also brought in a stray. Young kid by the name of Michael Ford, who is staying with Monroe for awhile. Miss Matheson already knew him and he decided he would give life in Willoughby a try. Let's see how long it is before Monroe kills him.

* * *

Move yourself  
You always live your life  
Never thinking of the future  
Prove yourself  
You are the move you make  
Take your chances win or loser - _Owner of a Lonely Heart - Yes_

* * *

Charlie knocked on the door to Monroe's house, still not sure if her being there was such a good idea. But she was there for Michael, at his request. And if that caused her to spend a little unexpected time with her partner, she would deal with it. Plus, she had to admit she was just a little bit...lonely.

Miles was with her mother a lot, and she and Rachel still weren't getting along, Monroe being the biggest reason why. Her grandfather was still mourning Marion, and Aaron seemed wrapped up in helping Priscilla recover. So that sort of left Charlie on the outskirts of her own family. Her partner and his new housemate were sort of her best option to relieve the loneliness.

The door opened and Monroe stood there, a slightly nervous look on his face. "Glad you're here."

"Why? Michael invited me." Something about Monroe always put her on the defensive.

"Yeah, I know," Bass said, stepping aside to let her enter. "But he's cooking. I'm more than a little concerned that my house is going to catch fire before the night's over."

"And what am I supposed to do if that happens?"

"I don't know, Charlie. Moral support among partners?"

Rolling her eyes, she followed him through the kitchen and out to the back patio. Sure enough, there was Michael, flipping steaks on a grill pit. He hurried over and hugged her. "Charlie, you made it. I'm so glad you're here."

"That seems to be going around," she said. Michael had been so excited about his little makeshift barbecue that she'd been unable to say no to the kid, even if it meant spending an off night with Monroe. "Do you need any help?"

"No, I got this." He motioned to the table and the salad, bread, and potatoes waiting for them. "I made it all."

"It looks wonderful," she said.

"But I spent a lot of money on that meat, kid. So you better not burn them," Bass said, pouring a glass of whiskey for Charlie.

"I won't. I won't." Michael returned to the grill. "I used to cook all the time. Back home, Peter used to let me cook for everyone."

"Steaks?" Bass asked.

Michael faltered. "Well, no-"

"Then pay attention, kid. This isn't the same as squirrel or rabbit." Bass sat across from Charlie at the table on the patio. "And we're hungry."

Michael rolled his eyes at Bass, but went back to the task at hand. "It's almost done."

Even a few weeks ago, Charlie would have reprimanded Monroe for being so hard on the young man. But after spending some time around the two of them, she realized this was how they dealt with one another. Monroe acted gruff and put out, while Michael took it all with a grain of salt. And after Connor's disappearance, Michael might have just been the best thing to happen to him.

Her eyes must have remained on Monroe for too long because he turned to her, gazes locking. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, shrugging. "It's just for someone who thinks Michael is going to ruin our dinner, you seem to have spent a lot of money on the food."

"The kid wanted it." At her pointed look, he smirked. "I think he was trying to impress you with his mad cooking skills."

"Whatever."

"No, seriously," Monroe said, tongue firmly in cheek. "I think this might be a date. Maybe I should leave-"

"Stop it." Her hand fell on his arm to keep him in place, but she quickly removed it. "He's trying to do something nice for us and you're picking on him."

"I'm not picking. Just stating a fact." Bass leaned back in his chair. "He was far happier cooking those things knowing you were coming over than he was doing it just for me."

"Let it go." Sometimes it was hard to keep the exasperation out of her voice when it came to Monroe.

"Alright," he said. "But let me know if I'm in the way."

Charlie was two seconds away from throwing something at him when Michael came to the table with a plate of perfectly cooked steaks. "Those look amazing."

"Thanks." Michael was all smiles as he set one on her plate before giving one to Bass. "I think they came out good. I had steak out on the ranch a few times, but we never had meat like this back home."

"Well, Texas is the place for steaks," Bass said, cutting into his. It really did look damn good; the last time he'd even had a cut of beef like this he'd been in Philly.

"And you never had meat like this at home because the president of the republic was hogging it all for himself." Bass's eyes met hers across the table, prepared to be pissed that she would bring something like that up. Until he noticed the glint in her eye. She was merely getting back at him for his comments about Michael.

Cocking an eyebrow, he nailed her with his eyes. "You think I'm going to feel guilty for that? I got a million things to feel guilty for, Charlie. That's pretty low down on the list."

They stared at each other for a few minutes, until she was no longer sure if they were teasing each other or if there was real anger building. Finally, Michael cut in. "OK, no fighting at the table. Let's just eat."

They went back to their meals, but she was impressed that Michael had picked up on the tension that still managed to exist between her and Monroe. They were partners, sure, but it was a very precarious situation. Any little thing could push either one of them off the fence they were delicately balancing on. For now, she was willing to keep the peace.

They ate in relative silence; there were a few praises for Michael, begrudgingly from Bass, and a little light conversation that revolved around the kid and how he was enjoying Willoughby. She supposed the old get-to-know-one-another thing she and Monroe had employed had either been cast aside or was reserved for when they were alone on missions. She sort of hoped it was the former; the last time they had a deep discussion, it had opened up some thoughts and emotions she didn't think she was ready for.

They had mostly finished their meal when there was a knocking at the front door. Bass caught Charlie's eye for a moment before getting up to answer. He was gone for a few seconds before he called her name.

Stepping up to the front door, she recognized Blanchard's aide and the envelope in Bass's hand. "Frank's here. He needs us."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they were in Blanchard's office, awaiting orders on their next assignment. "Alright you two, we're sending you out a little closer this time."

"Closer where?"

Blanchard shrugged at Bass. "The man we're tracking down has been seen outside of Houston, about 10 miles west of the city in a little town called Hedwig Village. We thought at first we wouldn't even need to involve any of the teams. Thought the local authorities could just pick him up. But then he disappeared. And then he showed up again."

"So he's on the run?" Charlie asked.

"Well, we're assuming so. But what we can't figure out is why he keeps returning to the same little town." Blanchard's chair creaked when he shifted his weight. "So we need to send y'all in."

"Any stats on the target?" Bass leaned back, propping his left ankle up on his right knee and tapping on his boot.

Blanchard picked up a paper on his desk. "Name is Eric Patrick. He was a staff sergeant."

"A staff sergeant?" Bass's eyebrow shot up.

Charlie glanced at Bass. "What does that mean?."

He met her eyes. "It means he was up in the ranks but not that high."

"We're tracking them all down, Monroe. We can't afford to let any officers go free."

"I get that part. But I also seriously doubt this guy could pull the entire Patriot army back together."

"Do you want to take that chance?" Blanchard asked.

Charlie cut in before Bass could answer. "We'll track him down. We'll do our jobs."

Blanchard nodded. "Alright, you leave first thing in the morning."

The sun was just setting as they exited the building. Charlie looked Monroe up and down for a moment. "What was that all about in there?"

She didn't need to explain further. "Charlie, that's pretty low on the totem pole. I didn't even know the names of my officers until they became captains. A guy like that wasn't running anything."

"We hunt down Patriots, Monroe, whether they're officers or just soldiers. It's what we signed on for." She shook her head in disbelief. "You can't tell me you're suddenly growing a conscience."

"You wouldn't believe it even if I did," he mumbled, but she heard and looked over at him. Their eyes connected and held, heated gazes locked. Again, she wasn't sure if it was animosity or just their usual push-and-pull banter.

After a few seconds, she broke the contact. Rolling her eyes, she sighed. Sometimes being around him was so exhausting. "I'm going home to get some sleep. You should too. Tell Michael I'm sorry we had to cut the evening short."

Without waiting for his answer, she crossed the street and headed for her apartment. Turning back for a second, she expected to still see him standing there. But he was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

They were on the road early the next morning; as with their first trip, Bass got there before she did and had the horses ready to go. Unsure whether she wanted a repeat of their last ride and the way too intense chat they'd had, Charlie steered the conversation to topics she felt comfortable with. How long did he think it would take to get there? Why would this Patriot risk coming and going from the small town near Houston? If it was related to the case, she brought it up.

They rode for slightly more than 8 hours, stopping a few times to give the horses a rest and found themselves settling in for the night in the small town of Bastrop, Texas. She was more than willing to just pitch a tent out along the Colorado River, but Bass was insistent that they take advantage of the nearby town and the beds that would accompany getting a room for the night. That was how they found themselves hitching their horses outside the Pecan Street Inn, a quaint lodging house just inside Bastrop.

Bass eyed the place for a moment before turning to her. "We're sharing a room."

Her eyes widened. "No, you get your own."

"Number one, it's safer if we share. Number two, Charlie, look at this place." He motioned to the house before him. If he had to guess, it was probably a romantic bed and breakfast before the Blackout. Not that she had to know that. "It's not that big. And number three, it's safer if we share."

She was far from convinced. "I was perfectly happy sleeping by the river."

"Look, locked doors are always safer than sleeping outside. And we could both do with getting a good night's sleep in a bed. We'll get separate beds." Although, he wasn't too sure a place like this would offer that.

"Fine," she exhaled, the huffiness reminded him of his littlest sister when she didn't get her way.

Happy that he'd won, he headed for the entrance. "And we're pretending we're married."

"What? No!" she shouted, but he'd already opened the door and was holding it for her, knowing she would never jeopardize their mission by arguing with him in public. Stomping past him, she slid up to the front counter, cringing when he slipped an arm around her waist.

Bass rang the bell on the counter, grimacing when Charlie dug her fingernails into the hand positioned on her waist. It was too late to remove it though as an older gentleman stepped out from the back room to greet them. "Can I help you?"

"Hi, yeah, my wife and I need a room." He felt her tense at the word wife, but outwardly she remained completely calm, a soft smile on her face. Their cover was too important for her to mess up and she knew it.

"We only have the Master Suite left. Got a king-sized bed and a fireplace. There's a bathroom with a claw-footed tub."

"We'll take it," Bass said. The very idea of taking a bath seemed ridiculously luxurious after a hard day on the road. He expected Charlie to protest, but she remained quiet; maybe the thought of sinking into a tub full of hot water appealed to her as well.

He paid the man in diamonds before they headed up to their room. The inn was a nice little place, lots of wood, lots of knitted rugs and throw blankets, that probably did a hell of a lot of business before the Blackout. But someone had at least tended to the upkeep of the place in the ensuing years. When they stepped into their room, Bass was immediately thrilled that he'd insisted on staying in a hotel; the bed was king-sized, and looked absolutely heavenly. What he guessed might present a problem was the fact that there was only one.

Charlie rounded on him. "You said you'd ask for two beds?"

"Yeah, well, I lied. That would have looked entirely too suspicious." He shook his head and crossed over to the bed, dropping his pack on the corner of it. "Come on, Charlie, this thing is huge. Neither one of us will even realize the other is in it."

She scoffed. "I'm not sharing a bed with you. You'll sleep on the floor."

He stared at her as if she'd grown another head. "No way. I'm not wasting a perfectly good bed to sleep on a hardwood floor. We'll line pillows down the center of this gigantic piece of furniture if you want, but I'm sleeping in this bed."

"Then I'll sleep on the floor," she insisted, refusing to budge on the matter.

If she seriously thought he was going to get all gentlemanly and take the floor, she was sorely mistaken. His manners only went so far. "Fine."

"Seriously, that's it?"

He almost bust out in laughter at the distraught look on her face. Knowing how fierce her wrath could be, he held back all signs of mirth, except for the slight smile he just couldn't wipe off his face. "Look, Charlie, there's a limit to my being honorable. And that limit is this bed. There's no way I'm passing up a chance for a good night's sleep when it might be my last one for the next week or so. You'd be smart to do the same thing."

Glaring at him for a moment, she looked from the floor to the bed several times. He could tell the exact moment she relented; Charlie always did know how to pick her battles. Tossing her pack on the opposite end from his, she flopped down on her side of the bed, falling onto her back. Bass sort of suspected she was checking to see exactly how much room would be between them.

Satisfied that they'd avoided an argument for a while, he wandered into the bathroom, releasing a low whistle when he saw the size of the tub, another feature that must have been in the room pre-Blackout. A brief flair of nostalgia gripped him; he hadn't seen a tub like that since Philly. He was definitely having a long soak in that thing.

Absentmindedly turning the faucet on, he was pleasantly surprised when a small stream of water shot out. Damn. Indoor plumbing, no matter how primitive, was nothing to sneeze at in their world.

Happy with their accommodations, he stepped back into the bedroom. "Come on, let's go grab dinner. Then we can come back here and get some rest. Get an early start tomorrow."

Never sure what mood she would throw at him, he found himself relieved when she accepted without a hassle. They stopped at the front desk to ask where they could find some decent food, then walked the short distance from the hotel to the restaurant in complete silence.

The restaurant turned out to be a small little room with lots of chairs and tables. The sort of mom and pop operation that could always be found in small towns before the Blackout. The only difference, Bass surmised, was the liquor that was now an obvious part of the menu. He wasn't sure a place that served food could survive anymore without it. Most travelers were looking for little more than a drink and some grub at the end of a long day. People used to drink because they wanted to. Now, they drank just to get through the day.

After ordering two bowls of stew and two glasses of whiskey, Charlie carefully steered the conversation towards the mission. "So we never really decided why this guy is showing up in Hedwig Village and then taking off again. Is he looking for something? Money maybe."

"Well, money's a good motivator, so that's always a possibility. But I don't know. That doesn't feel right." A waitress placed two glasses of whiskey in front of them and Bass scooped his up, swallowing down half of it. "I think there's something else."

"Something worth risking his life over?" Charlie sipped at her own drink.

"Yeah, something like that."

"Well, what?"

"I don't know, Charlie. If I did, we'd be that much better off." Bass realized how snide his answer sounded the second it came out of his mouth, but it was too late to change it. Two seconds later, his hopes that Charlie wouldn't take it that way were dashed when she got remarkably quiet and extremely interested in her drink. "Charlie..."

She said nothing, taking another sip of her whiskey, eyes anywhere but on him.

"I didn't mean anything by it. I just...I'm not sure why this guy is doing something that seems so stupidly foolish." He sighed. "I didn't mean to bite your head off."

She glared at him for a minute. "Sometimes I think you and I going on missions together is the stupidest thing either of us has ever done."

"Charlie, listen-"

"No, I'm serious." She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. "We have nothing in common. I don't like you. And you think I'm an idiot who has no clue what she's doing out here."

"What?" Glancing around at the other patrons in the restaurant, he realized how loud his response was and lowered his voice, leaning in towards her. "Are you serious? You think that I think what?"

"Look, it's obvious that you have no respect for me. That you think I'm just some dumb kid who happens to be Miles Matheson's niece."

Their bowls of stew arrived halting the conversation for a few minutes. Which was good, as Bass needed that much time to figure out how she'd ever drawn those conclusions. After the waitress left, Charlie dug into her bowl, eyes straight ahead as she chewed, essentially ignoring his very presence.

Shoving his bowl to the side, he turned towards her, chair and all, his full concentration on Charlotte Matheson. "First off, I have no idea how you ever got that idea. I never once said anything about you being an idiot or a dumb kid."

She dropped her spoon. "You've called me a kid plenty of times."

"Kid...I don't ever remember modifying that with the word dumb. And I don't think I've ever used the word idiot to describe you." She was about to protest when he held up his hand. "And even if I did, I've called Miles an idiot more times than you could ever count. Doesn't mean I wouldn't have him watching my back at every move."

"Monroe-"

"No, you listen to me for a change." He leaned in even closer. So much so that Charlie tilted backwards just a bit. "I asked for you, Charlie. Specifically. I admit I asked for Miles first. He didn't want the job, you were the next one I requested. In fact, after you and your uncle, there were no other choices for me. If you had turned Blanchard down, I would have too. I asked for you because I think you're not an idiot or a dumb kid or some fool running around out there with no skills or training."

Her eyes met his, locking, holding. It was that damn eye contact he just couldn't escape with her. "Well, what about Duncan's men? You didn't think I was qualified enough to lead them."

He should have known she'd bring up something like that. But she didn't understand there was more to his comment to Scanlon than she understood. "Do you want to know what I really thought when Duncan gave you those men?"

Without breaking his gaze, she nodded. God, Charlie Matheson was a force, straightforward and honest, never backing down from a challenge. "Yeah, I do."

"I was impressed." Charlie's eyes widened ever so slightly. "I knew Duncan...really well. She didn't give trust very easily. Her men were part of her family. She was willing to take the money, but to just give them away...no, I never expected that. Not even for someone she owed a debt to."

"Then why would she..."

"Because she saw something in you. I would guess something that reminded her of herself." He tipped his head towards her. "And let me tell you something, Charlie. No one would ever accuse Duncan Page of being an idiot, least of all me."

Charlie got the message. Duncan didn't think she was a stupid kid. And neither did he. "So why did you act like she shouldn't have given them to me?"

He glanced away from her, shaking his head. "Jesus, Charlie. She and I had a past. I thought she'd..."

Charlie studied him for a moment. "You were jealous."

He looked up at her, the truth of that statement in his eyes. "Can we just drop this now and eat?"

She wanted to gloat about it; she really did. But considering all the honesty he'd showed her in the last couple of minutes, she decided to cut him a break. "Sure."

He pulled his chair back, tucking into his bowl of stew with a newfound fervor. The rest of the meal was eaten in silence; their only conversation was with the waitress whenever she stopped by their table. The walk back to the hotel was also quiet as Charlie contemplated the things Monroe had said at dinner, while he wondered how once again he'd revealed so much to her.

Back in their room, Bass offered her first dibs on the big tub, which she promptly turned down. He seemed a bit confused over her refusal but happily locked himself in the bathroom when she insisted she was just heading to bed for the night. Of course, he had no way of knowing that the last time she'd soaked in a tub like that had been at Drexel's. She really didn't want a memory of that night playing in her brain.

Crawling into the huge bed, she could hear Monroe splashing away in the tub. Sometimes the guy acted like the biggest jerk she'd ever encountered. But sometimes he said things that caught her completely off guard. She'd honestly never believed he had any faith in her fighting skills, assuming he'd asked for her as a partner because she was sort of like Miles. He'd even said that he thought they'd be good partners because she fought like Miles. It just never occurred to her that could actually be a compliment.

To know that he was impressed she'd gotten those men off of Duncan, that he was actually a little jealous, was mindblowing. As much as Monroe drove her nuts, he was one of the best fighters she'd ever seen, Miles being the other. So as much as she might hate to want his respect, she found that the warrior in her really did yearn for it. Knowing she had it made her a little less edgy, like maybe he wasn't just waiting at every turn to call her out for doing something wrong.

She glanced at his side of the bed, then at the pillows across the headboard. Earlier, she'd had every intention of lining them up through the center to form a barrier. But after what he'd shared tonight, she figured a bit of an olive branch had been extended. It was now up to her to decide if she wanted to pick it up and call a truce to their bitter war. Staring at the bathroom door, she made her decision.

When Bass finally came out of the bath, he found Charlie asleep on her side, facing away from him. It didn't escape his attention that there were no pillows down the center of the bed.

* * *

The pillows, or lack thereof, on the big bed were never mentioned again, but a change had definitely occurred in their relationship. There was an ease between them that had never existed before, at least not while they weren't in fight mode. Charlie still wasn't sure she wanted to use the word friends, but they were actually...getting along.

Conversation over the next few days was widespread, and although they avoided really deep discussions, Charlie did allowed talk dealing with more than just the case. It was still mainly small talk, but it was far less stilted than usual. For the first time since they'd started, she finally felt that maybe their partnership wasn't a complete and total mistake.

And she had to admit Bass was a pretty decent traveling companion. He'd been right about sleeping in a bed when they could; none of the other small towns they had passed were as decent as Bastrop, prohibiting them from finding another hotel to spend the night in.

Four days later, they reached the town of Katy just as the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. There was still enough light left to see the streets and Bass wanted to find a good place to bunk down for the night.

"We're less than a day's ride away from Hedwig Village, but we'll have to bunk here for the night, Charlie," he said. "We lost some time when we left the interstate."

She nodded in agreement. Lack of use had made the main highway nearly impassable for the horses, so they'd had to move off the interstate onto U.S. route 90. Here, the road was much smaller and closer, stores and buildings lining their path. Before them were several abandoned gas stations and an old chain restaurant whose tall sign had smashed out arches on it. Charlie vaguely remembered eating in one of them as a child.

Bass dismounted, his eyes searching up and down the deserted highway.

"What are you looking for?" Charlie asked.

"Just thinking that I'd rather get off the beaten path a bit," he answered.

"Monroe, we haven't seen anyone the whole day."

"It's better not to take chances, Charlie. Come on. Let's go this way." He started off down a side street that lead away from the U.S. route.

Hopping off her horse, she strolled up next to him as they crossed over train tracks overgrown with tall grasses. Passing by several deserted buildings, which looked as if they might have once been shops, they made they way further into the town.

"Does it seem awfully quiet here to you?" he asked as they approached a small intersection.

Charlie stopped and looked around. A huge water tower loomed over them, but she would bet anything that it had been drained years ago. "Yeah, and I haven't seen so much as a sign of a single person living here. Do you think the town is deserted?"

Bass glanced up and down the road they were on. "Looks like it. We need to find a decent place to hole up for the night. Let's try down here."

"Do you think we might find some food while we're at it? We don't have a lot left in the way of rations." She unconsciously rubbed her stomach. Bass noticed, but remained silent. One way or another, he'd make sure she ate enough before they bedded down for the night.

The pickings had been slim for the last few days. Neither of them had been very successful in the hunt for food. And too many of the towns they'd encountered had been not only deserted, but almost completely trashed. Many had looked like battlefields, dilapidated buildings strewn around them. Bass suspected a tornado had cut through the area sometime after the Blackout and any humans left alive had just moved on. It would explain the rather straight path of the destruction. With no people around to care, nothing would ever be rebuilt.

"We'll find something." Noticing a store filled with various odds and ends, he tied both horses to a telephone pole out front then led Charlie inside.

She glanced around the messy store. It was obvious it had been ransacked sometime in the past. "What was this place?"

"Not what I was expecting," he said. He'd been hoping for a convenience store of some type, but from the remaining knickknacks and trinkets he could see, they'd more likely wandered into a antique store. Anything that might have been of value though was obviously long gone. "They sold heirlooms and relics from the past. People used to enjoy decorating their homes with things like that."

Charlie nodded. "Grandpa has a few things in his house that he said my grandmother picked up at an antiques dealer."

So did his own mother. "Well, I don't think we'll find too much in here, but let's make a quick sweep. See if anything looks useful."

They went in separate directions, but the store was so small she was constantly in his line of sight. Finding an old desk against the back wall, he rifled through a few of the drawers, pulling out a ton of papers. The piece of furniture must have been used in place of an office, since there didn't appear to be a back room of any kind. Yanking open the bottom drawer, he shuffled a few papers to the side and found an old energy bar.

Having finished her own exploration, Charlie slid up next to him. "What's that?"

He handed her the bar. "Food."

She looked at the wrapper and gave it right back to him. At his questioning look, she shrugged. "My mom tried to give me one of those last year. She said people used to eat it. But when I broke it apart, it didn't seem all that edible. I didn't even try."

Bass chuckled. "Good move. We used to eat these when we were in a rush."

"Well, have at it then."

He ripped into the package and bit into the bar, spitting it out when he found he couldn't even chew through it. "Yeah, I guess it's gotten a little stale over the years. Can you believe we used to think these things were healthy?"

She laughed. "My mom said they were loaded with sugar."

"They were loaded with a lot of things. Come on, let's get out of here. We'll find something else to eat." Back outside, he looked at a few of the other storefronts on the street. "There...we'll stay there."

Only two doors away, Charlie left the horses where they were and stepped up next to Bass, eyeing the place he was referring to. "A home decorating store?"

"It's perfect. It's small and compact, and all the windows are busted out so we should be able to start a fire. They may even have something we can use for bedding."

Neither one of them noticed a lone figure creep from the side of the municipal building behind them. Not until they heard the sound of a shotgun being cocked behind them.

"Who the hell are you and what do you want?"

Both Charlie and Bass whipped out their guns as they spun around to face their assailant. Charlie's eyes widened when she realized she recognized the woman in front of her.

"Charlie?"

"Grace?"

Since both women had lowered their guns, Bass followed suit, his eyes shooting over to Charlie. "Is there going to be anyone we run into that you don't know?"

* * *

 **The rest of the mission is completed and will be up in a few days.**

 **Also, there really is a Pecan Street Inn in Bastrop, and it looks really lovely on its website. Bass and Charlie really enjoyed their stay there. ;)**


	5. Outlaw Blues

This was supposed to be posted a few days after Chapter 4, but it wound up being two weeks. Sorry about that. I did wind up adding quite a bit more to it, and it sort of got away from me. It's a bit of a lengthy chapter. Hope you enjoy. Please let me know.

Thank you so much for all the reviews, favorites, and kudos. :)

I own nothing of Revolution.

 **When we last left Charlie and Bass, Blanchard had sent them on a mission to track down a suspicious Patriot who was sneaking around a small town outside of Houston. On the way there, they met up with another familiar face...**

* * *

You wrote the story with the movie in mind

An angel face with a criminal side

Celebrated as the rebel kind

The Outlaw - _Outlaw Blues - Pat Benatar_

* * *

 _"Charlie?"_

 _"Grace?"_

 _Since both women had lowered their guns, Bass followed suit, his eyes shooting over to Charlie. "Is there going to be anyone we run into that you don't know?"_

Rolling her eyes at his comment, she couldn't deny that they'd twice run into someone she knew from her trek to Philadelphia. "She and my mom worked together...before the Blackout. Grace, what are you doing here?"

"I live here. Alone," Grace answered, a slightly exasperated look on her face. "Although every time I try to move to some remote Iocation where I can **be** alone, one of your inner circle always shows up unexpectedly."

Chagrinned, Charlie glanced at Bass. She knew both Aaron and Priscilla had run into the woman in some deserted town in Oklahoma, and she really didn't want to interrupt her life again. "I'm sorry. We're actually just on our way through."

"I find your choice of company interesting, Charlie." Grace stared at Bass, eyes narrowed. "General Monroe. Didn't expect to see you ever again."

Bass shook his head. He hadn't lied to Connor in New Vegas; he really had hurt a lot of people. But damn it, he was trying to put that behind him and start over. "Just Bass. I don't go by that anymore."

Grace studied him for another minute before Charlie spoke up. "I know it may seem strange, but he's my partner now. We're chasing down the rest of the Patriots."

"Charlie-"

"It's okay, Monroe. I trust her," Charlie insisted.

Grace nodded. "Alright. Well, it's getting dark. You two can stay the night. Grab your horses and bring them around front."

She waited for them to collect their animals then led them around the corner to the main entrance of the municipal building. Strapping the horses to the flagpoles outside the door, Bass and Charlie followed her into the building.

She led them down the hall to what appeared to be a large meeting area. Inside, several rows of cots lined the room, almost like an army barracks, but only a few still retained their thin mattresses. Most likely, in the early days of the Blackout, the Katy municipal center had become a shelter for anyone in the community who couldn't stay in their homes. All these years later, it remained relatively untouched.

"You can sleep in here. I found these like this when I came to town," Grace said. She pointed to a door across the hall. "I'm in there."

"Is there anyone else in Katy?" Bass asked, dropping his pack on the cot next to the one Charlie had picked.

"Not since I got here. The whole place is deserted as far as I can tell. I'm assuming you two are probably hungry." She led them to a room off the main one, into what appeared to be a small kitchen with a little table. "Sit. I made deer jerky earlier. And there are a few apples I picked a day ago as well."

She plopped a bowl of red apples on the table, chuckling when Bass and Charlie each snatched one and took a huge bite. "Thanks, Grace. How long have you been here?"

"About six months. I came down from Oklahoma after your buddy Aaron found me in my last secret hiding place."

"Why are you hiding?" Bass asked.

Grace shot him a direct look. "Well, at first it was to avoid being found by a man like Randall Flynn."

Bass nearly choked on his apple. "You knew Flynn?"

"Knew him?" Grace snorted. "I worked for him."

Bass's eyes met Charlie's, a question in his baby blues; she sighed when he wouldn't break the contact. "She and my parents were part of the team that created the Nano."

"And let me guess," Grace said, noting Bass's serious expression. "All those rumors are true. You were the one who led Randall into the Tower."

"Yeah, sadly those are true," he admitted.

"He didn't drop the bombs though," Charlie interjected, surprising even Bass in her quick defense of him.

Grace huffed, bringing the spiced dried meat to the table and taking a seat across from Bass. "I always assumed that was Randall. It never made sense to me that the President of the Republic would blow up his own city."

Bass nodded his appreciation at the thought. This woman had obviously lived in his republic and didn't have a very high opinion of him. For her to at least believe he wouldn't have killed his own people was probably more than he deserved.

"Grace, how did you get out of the Tower?" Charlie asked.

"Wait, you were in the Tower?"

"I was," Grace confirmed. "It was your mother, Charlie. She wanted access to Level 12 and no one was going to allow that. So she got me alone in another room to ask if I'd help her. She wanted to avenge your brother. I guess that one is on you?"

At her direct stare, Bass lowered his head. "Yeah. That one is."

Charlie said nothing, her eyes moving from Monroe to Grace. He'd apologized to her for Danny's death, but she wasn't sure she was entirely ready to forgive him for his part in it.

"Well, Rachel was on a tear to get down to that level and nothing was going to stop her." Charlie certainly knew that. Not even a bleeding Nora and a heartfelt plea from her daughter was enough to stop that warpath. She was never sure it would have made a difference, but she always wondered anyway...if Rachel had helped her patch up Nora, would the dark-haired woman have survived? "She drugged me and stole my pass key."

"She what?" Bass asked at the same time as Charlie. He wasn't sure why that even surprised him; he certainly knew what Rachel was capable of.

"Well, I suppose I shouldn't be angry. She did save my life. Everyone else was caught in that explosion on Level 11. I'm guessing that was your militia's handy work too, Gen-Mr. Monroe."

Bass quirked an eyebrow. No, it really wasn't, but one look at Charlie changed his answer. "Probably. At some point things got really confusing down there."

Charlie turned away. Grace's life may have been saved, but they'd blown up the rest of the people who wanted to keep them off of Level 12. That wasn't what had driven her mother over the edge, but Charlie had to wonder if it was the thing that had driven **her** over it. Because it was immediately after the Tower that her own lines of right and wrong began to blur.

Her eyes met Monroe's, and with one look, she knew that **he** knew something more had happened a half a mile beneath the earth. At her slight head shake, he dropped the subject.

"Anyway, when I finally woke up, the place was empty, not a soul anywhere. I got out and to the nearest town. That was when I found out about the destruction, and I knew Randall was somehow involved. I figured whatever pot he had his fingers in wasn't something I wanted to stick around to see boil over. So I found myself a little ghost town out of the way, where I could be completely alone. Or I was until Aaron showed up."

Charlie knew a little bit about that. "He's gone through a really rough time since then. Something happened to his wife, uh, ex-wife."

"Priscilla?" Grace asked.

"You know her?"

"Yeah, I may know more about this than you even realize. I was the one who told Aaron that the Nano had awakened when the power was restored." She grabbed an apple and started peeling it with a small kitchen knife. "Is he back with your mom?"

Charlie nodded. "He is. They both are...he and Priscilla. Something happened to her. She was...possessed, I guess you could say, by the Nano. She said that she saw something big coming, but she couldn't say exactly what."

"She's not wrong." Grace sliced a piece of apple and ate it. "The Nano woke up big time. And lately, there's something else going on with it."

"How can you tell?" Bass asked. After everything he'd seen and done in his life, nothing should have the power to freak him out. But the whole situation brewing with those little microscopic machines really was. Maybe it was the furtive way Aaron and Priscilla acted whenever he saw them around Willoughby. Or the fact that an enemy like that was not something he could just find and destroy.

"I've had dreams." She sighed. "It's really hard to explain. I suppose it's just something I need to share with your mom and Aaron."

Charlie glanced at Bass, who shook his head. "We have a job to do, Charlie. We can't keep picking up strays."

"Hey!" Grace pointed the knife in her hand at Bass. It wasn't nearly close enough to be a threat, but the message was clear. "I'm nobody's stray."

Bass held up his hands in surrender. "Fair enough. No offense meant."

Charlie rolled her eyes at him. "Look, he's sometimes an idiot, but he's got a point. We do have a job to do, and we can't be sure when we'll be getting back to Willoughby.

"I can certainly travel on my own," Grace said. "And I always seem to find my way to Aaron Pittman. I can't imagine this time will be any different. And we've got some time. The Nano are just brewing. Nothing happening yet."

An hour later, Bass and Charlie were laying on their respective cots, though neither was asleep. She glanced over at him a few times, telling herself she was just checking to see if he was still awake. But she was actually a little antsy over their impromptu meeting with Grace and wanted to know what he thought about it all.

The third time her head tilted in his direction, he called her on it. "What, Charlie?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit. What?"

"Do you think we have to worry about this? This Nano thing?" No one at home had really discussed it with her, but she suspected there had been a few clandestine meetings between her mother, Aaron and Priscilla while she and Bass were on the road.

"I honestly don't know," he said. "The very idea that your mom woke up some dormant machines that are small enough to be everywhere is a little unsettling."

The part he left off of that sentence hung in the air between them. Rachel woke said machines because she wanted revenge on Monroe. Charlie couldn't imagine that sat all that well with him.

"But something like that...I have no idea how we'd even fight something like that, Charlie." His voice was oddly soft, gentle almost. Having never heard him speak like that before, she glanced over at him, the moonlight coming through the window silhouetting his face. "You, me and Miles, we can fight an enemy we can see, we can touch. But these things...I just don't know."

He didn't state it, but she suspected these things unnerved him as much as they did her. And she sensed a bit of vulnerability in him as well. There were so many things she wanted to ask when he was in a mood like this. But she had no idea where to start.

Turning on his side to face her, he tucked one hand under the jacket he was using for a pillow. She followed suit, so that only the space between the cots separated them.

In the end, he was the one to break the silence. "Can I ask you something?"

She sighed, her eyes closing for a second. "I guess."

"What happened in the Tower? What caused that explosion that killed those people? I lost my men as soon as we made it to that level, Charlie. We didn't set off any bombs." Even in the darkness of the room, with nothing but the moonlight illuminating their features, his eyes found hers. "But I know one thing. Only one of us had a demolitions expert with them and it wasn't me. Did Nora set it off?"

Charlie never lost eye contact with him as she whispered an affirmative. "But it wasn't..."

"It was on Rachel's orders, wasn't it? I mean, it was her idea."

Charlie simply nodded then flipped onto her back, settling into the cot. "Can we talk about this some other time..."

"Yeah...OK. Get some rest." He watched her for another few minutes, until he saw her breathing even out and knew she was asleep. Turning onto his own back, he found slumber far more elusive than she did.

* * *

When they woke in the morning, they found some of the jerky and apples set out on the little table for them, but there was no sign of Grace. She was long gone.

They watered the horses from a nearby well and were on the road within minutes. Since they were able to use the interstate for the rest of the trip, it only took them half a day. Once they passed the road sign that stated Houston was 10 miles away, Bass pulled out a map to check their position. "Well, this should be it."

Charlie scanned the horizon. "This looks like a pretty big area, Monroe. It might be hard to track him down."

"Keep your fingers crossed that the intel Blanchard got pays off," he said, studying the map. "From that info, we can at least narrow down the exact spot he's making these visits to. According to this, it's down here."

They rode the horses off the highway and picked up a side road that led into the village. As with most small towns post-Blackout, some businesses remained, some were permanently gone. It made for a very haphazard look, one that often reminded Bass of the Stephen King novel The Stand.

Bass stopped them as they neared an abandoned parochial school. "Charlie, hold up. This might be what we're looking for."

"This is the school?"

Checking the map, he nodded. "Yeah. The house he keeps visiting should be on the corner of the next street down. We gotta find someplace to stash the horses."

Both hopped down from their mounts, Bass's eyes studying the buildings around them. He signalled down a side street. "We want to get a good place to stake out this house. We may be watching it for awhile. Let's try down there...see if we can come in from the back."

A small street shot off the larger one, hopefully providing the cover he was looking for. It was a cul-de-sac, but the backyards connected to houses along the main street. "Perfect."

"That small place through there?" Charlie asked, pointing towards the exact ranch house he'd been thinking of. He hadn't been blowing smoke up her skirt when he complimented her in that restaurant in Bastrop; she'd learned a hell of a lot in just two short years. And he'd gladly have her watching his back in any fight.

The house felt so small, surrounded by the huge gated ones around it. Probably an older model, it was the smallness of it that made it so perfect. One look in the curtainless window revealed the house was empty; the dust on what remained of the furniture was obvious even from outside.

It was easy to get on the roof. Tying his horse in the yard and snagging his pack, he stepped up on the back stoop then jumped up and grabbed ahold of the gutter, hauling himself up onto the slate. Crouching down, he held out a hand for Charlie. "Coming?"

She couldn't hold back the chuckle. Nodding, she followed him onto the porch, actually accepting his hand as an anchor to pull herself up. But she still felt the need to issue a warning. "You let me fall, you better plan on never sleeping again."

Yanking her up, he stood, tugging her along with him. Their hands still grasped, he looked her right in the eye. "Partner to partner, I won't let you fall, Charlie."

Releasing her, he crouched down again, crawling forward to the front of the roof. Charlie stood where she was for another minute, unsure of exactly what had just happened. Filing it away to think about at a far better time, she followed Monroe, laying on her stomach next to him. "I was joking...about the letting me fall."

"I know," he said, scanning the street through his binoculars. "I wasn't."

She glanced at him, unsure of what to make of the mood he was in. It was almost melancholy, like he'd been the night before.

"Well," he sighed. "We might as well settle in. It's late afternoon, so we may be here for a while before we lose the light."

Charlie was silent, her mind replaying the last few minutes. She'd felt something...when Monroe had made that pledge. She knew it meant more than letting her fall off the roof. For the first time since she'd met her uncle Miles, she felt...camaraderie with someone. On the way to Philly, she and Miles had formed a bond; she trusted him wholly and completely. How ironic that only the second person to ever make her feel that way...was the same man she'd marched across the Monroe Republic to kill.

The same man now interrupting her reverie. "It'll be a lot longer if we don't talk about anything."

It sort of freaked her out, this newfound partnership with Monroe. They'd still been bitter enemies on the way back to Willoughby, and yes, he'd saved her life, but there was no friendship, no bond there. Now...as much as she might hate to admit it, they were becoming true partners. That knowledge gave her the confidence to ask some of the harder questions niggling at her brain.

"Alright, can I ask you something?" She looked over at him.

"Yeah," he said, lowering the binocs and meeting her eyes. "I told you...partners share things."

With the Nano and Grace on her mind, she posed her question. "What did my father say? In that phone call he made to Miles on the night of the Blackout. What made you think he would know how to turn the power back on?"

"It wasn't anything he said." Bass hadn't even known she was aware of that night. Her uncle must have told her. "It was the fact that he called. All he told Miles was it was going to shut off and never turn back on."

"You figured he had to know something?"

"Anyone who knew the power was going to permanently shut off had to at least know **why** it shut off." He hoped she didn't want to delve too deeply into the rest of the reasons he had Rachel in Philly and was searching for Ben, at least not right now.

Luckily for him, she didn't press the issue. "Well, it turned out you were right. She knew all along...how to get it back on. I guess my dad did too."

"Yeah, she did." It should have pissed him off. All the years he fought and struggled with Rachel to tell him what he wanted to know, all the things that could have been avoided if she'd only given him the answer. But he just couldn't find it in himself to be angry about it anymore. If she'd given in, he might have destroyed the world even faster than the Patriots.

"But by turning it on, she allowed Randall Flynn to drop those bombs. And what she woke up may be worse than anything else we've faced."

"Maybe," he agreed. He supposed he should be grateful Rachel never told him the truth. At least he couldn't be blamed for the latest atrocity about to perpetrate their lives. "Or maybe your mom and Aaron will come up with a solution. And Grace said she was going back. She might be able to help. All I know is fixing this Nano problem will be up to the computer geeks. You and I have a different job to do."

"Yeah, we do." They eyed each other for a few more minutes, before he went back to peering through the binoculars.

"Holy hell."

"What?"

"It's him." He handed her the binocs. "He fits the description to a tee."

Charlie studied the man carefully creeping down the back wall of the deserted school. Eric Patrick was tall and lanky, with closely cropped black hair and a thin face. And from far away looked to Charlie to be all of about 17 years old. But she'd read the file; he was actually four years older than her.

"He wasn't leaving town at all," Bass said.

"What?" Charlie looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Check out that school." He leaned a little closer to her and nodded at the brick building across from them. "That's a perfect hideout, Charlie."

"Shouldn't someone have found him by now?" she asked. With all the jumbled feelings she had going on at the moment, she wasn't sure she liked him being so close. But she accepted it. Learning to be partners with an old enemy was hard as hell.

He seemed to sense her acceptance of his proximity, and just like the pillows on the bed, a calm settled over them again. "Every little town is different. I have no idea how good the local authorities are around here."

They watched him reach the end of the school and bolt across the remaining lawn, scurrying across the street and onto the sidewalk of the house they were spying on. He didn't enter the front door, but snuck through the heavily wooded yard on the side. Bass could just see him as he disappeared inside.

"He's in."

"So what's the plan?"

"Well..." Bass propped up on one elbow facing her. "The plan is for your cute, young, innocent-looking ass to go over there and knock on the door."

Glaring at him, all the while considering tossing him over the roof, she realized he was holding back a smile; that same shit-eating grin that he was so very fond of. Sighing, and realizing as his partner she was going to have to get use to his antics, she lightly punched him on the shoulder. "Perfect. And if the house is full of Patriots...then what?"

"Then I'll come out of my hiding spot in the bushes and we'll take 'em down." Did she seriously think he would leave her all alone out there?

"What if there's twenty of them in the house?"

"Twenty against you and me? I like those odds." He winked at her, and she found herself unable to resist returning a smile.

Still grinning, she shook her head. "You're an idiot."

"Yeah, but you've been saying that with so much less venom these days." Their eyes met again and held. Damn it, as much as she didn't want to...she was starting to really not hate him anymore.

"Let's just get this done."

Shimmying backwards, she made it to the back porch and hopped down off the roof, Monroe right behind her. Trying to keep their approach as concealed as possible, they passed through several backyards before circling around to the front and crossing the street. Sneaking back to the house in question, Bass motioned for Charlie to remain in place until he could check it out further.

An ivy-covered fence lined the street side of the house, blocking prying eyes from seeing in, but also keeping those inside from seeing out. It wasn't a safe house he would have chosen, considering seeing your enemies coming was always necessary. Creeping around to the side of the house where the fence ended, he was able to get a better view; although once again, the bushes and overgrown shrubbery provided him with the ultimate disguise. Seeing no movement inside, he signalled for Charlie.

Crouching down next to him, she studied the house. "So I knock on the door and then what?"

"Make something up. You got lost...you're looking for food. Whatever. Just get good eyes on the inside, Charlie, OK?" He patted her low on the back, where her gun was stuck in her waistband. "And if you need to, you duck to the side, whip this out and start shooting. I'm right behind you."

Secretly happy for his support, she nodded, then stood and stepped onto the walkway to the front of the house. As she approached the door, he snuck to the side of the porch. The angle of the house, plus the way it was designed, meant no one coming to the front door could see his position.

With her heart pounding, Charlie stepped up and knocked. She was edgy, like she was with most missions; Miles had told her once that only machines did not feel adrenaline and fear rush over them before walking into perilous situations. Glancing over at Bass, she realized that she believed with all of her heart that he would have her back. That if they were placed in danger in the next few minutes, he'd be right there fighting beside her. And damn, if it wasn't nice to have a true partner again.

Her head spun back to the door as it opened, and a young woman of about 20 stood there. "Can I help you?"

Not expecting a girl her own age, Charlie hesitated for just a moment. "I, uh...I'm sorry. I was just checking the houses. Seeing if any were empty so I could spend the night in them."

"Well, this one is occupied," the girl said, starting to shut the door.

Charlie pressed her hand to the door to prop it open. "Wait, look, I've been traveling for a long time. Do you have any food I could buy? I'm just really hungry and-"

She was cut off as Eric Patrick stepped out from behind the door, shotgun cocked and pointed at her. "And you passed about three markets selling food no matter what direction you came from. Who the hell are you?"

A quick look at the young girl told Charlie she was there of her own volition and under no duress. Backing up on the porch a bit, Eric followed her out. The move did exactly what she hoped it would; with all of his attention focused on her, he never noticed Bass coming in from the side until the barrel of the gun pressed against his temple.

"Drop it, asshole," Bass said in that deadly voice he sometimes used.

"I could shoot her."

"Her? Nah...she'd be out of the way before your finger even pulled the trigger. Now give me the damn gun." Bass's eyes met Charlie's and he read the message inside them. The girl was with Eric; she meant something to him. Bass's gun swung from the Patriot to the young woman. "Drop it or I'll drop her, I swear."

"No!" Eric shouted, lifting his hands in surrender. Charlie reached up and took the gun from his raised hand. "Don't hurt her. I'll do whatever you want, but just...don't hurt her."

Bass and Charlie shared another look. Well, this was a far cry different from their last target who was willing to kill the girl to get away. Suddenly, a cry went up from inside the house. The cry of a baby.

"What the..." Bass murmured. Knowing they were exposed and out in the open, he pointed the gun back at Eric and motioned towards the house. "Alright, everyone, inside...now!"

"You have a baby?" Charlie asked, her voice soft.

"Look," Eric said. "Take whatever you want. Anything we have. Just leave my family alone."

"Your-your family?" Bass's voice was thick and raspy.

"My wife, my son. You can have the house if you want, just let us leave." Eric pleaded his case, but his voice was strong and sure.

Bass looked over at Charlie, their gazes connecting, both swirling with uncertainty. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen such confusion in Monroe's eyes before. When he lowered his gun, she did the same. "We're not here to steal anything from you. In fact, we're not here for your family at all."

"Then-"

"We hunt down Patriots," Charlie explained. "Return them to Texas."

Eric chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound. "I guess I should have known that would come back and bite me on the ass. I signed up for the Patriots when they came through town. They came here with all these promises and food and supplies. Maddie was just pregnant and we needed the money. They said if we were loyal, we'd never have to worry about anything ever again. I started questioning some of their methods right away but...I was in, you know. And they liked me. They made me a staff sergeant right off the bat. I knew something was wrong when half my squadron just up and disappeared. I've been hiding out ever since, trying to keep the heat off of my family."

Charlie glanced at Bass. "We can't-"

"Charlie." He cut her off with a wave of his hand, his mind jumbled from what they'd just learned, from the baby's cries. He looked at Eric. "Pack a bag."

"You're taking me in?" Eric asked, surprise in his voice.

"For all of you. Pack a bag for all of you." At Eric's hesitation, Bass raised his gun, not pointing it at the man, but the meaning still clear.

Charlie heard it, the tone of the general creeping into Monroe's voice, and her heart sank. Just as she was starting to fully trust him, to think of him as an ally, a partner, his true colors came flying to the surface once again. As soon as the Patrick family climbed the steps, she rounded on him. "Monroe, you can't do-"

"My job?"

"You were the one who said he wasn't that high in the ranks."

"And you were the one who said we would bring them in regardless of who they were."

Closing her eyes, she tried to stop the small taste of shame rising in her throat. She could never take back those words, but she should have remembered that not everything was black and white. "Not like this. Not for something like this. He joined to help his family."

"Charlie, do you think everyone we go after is going to be like Clarke was, willing to kill an innocent girl just to escape?" His eyes were sharp, nailing her to the spot she stood in. "Some of them are going to have families, be nice guys. That's just the way it is. Or do you only want to do this when Truman is the target?"

A mask slid over Charlie's face, one that snuffed out the easy openness that had recently blossomed between them. "I can't believe you. I can't believe-"

The rest of her response was cut off as Eric descended the stairs, Maddie and a dark-haired little boy in tow. But Bass knew what she wanted to say; the loss of the headway they'd made ate away at him.

"Listen," Eric started, stepping over to Bass, "I have some diamonds. I can pay you. Just let us leave."

Bass stared at him for a moment. "You have diamonds?"

"Yeah."

"Show me." Eric pulled a leather pouch from his pocket and handed it over to Bass, who quickly counted the stones. "Good. That should be more than enough for you to get some horses and a wagon."

"For us-a wagon?" Eric asked.

"Yeah, well, you can't travel to Mexico with a baby on horseback. A wagon will make it easier."

All the adults in the room stared at Bass in confusion. "You're...letting us go?"

Bass's eyes were trained on the baby, but his thoughts were on a refugee camp in Savannah 14 years prior. "Somebody's gotta raise that kid. In this world, he'll do better with both a mother and father."

Eric breathed a sigh of relief, pulling Maddie closer to his side. "How can we thank you?"

"Disappear. I don't ever want to see any of you again," Bass said. "Change the way you look. Cross into Mexico in one of those tiny towns where they no longer check the border. Sneak in if you have to. And don't ever look back. We found you...others can do the same. Understand?"

"I do." Eric held a hand out to Bass. "Thank you. Both of you."

Bass shook his hand, followed by Charlie. "I suggest you leave tonight. It will be harder to travel with a baby at night, but it will give you a lot more cover. Try to make it to the next town over tonight, on foot...buy a wagon there. Then sleep during the day."

"Alright," Eric agreed, looking between Charlie and Bass. "I don't even know your names."

"It's not important." Bass handed the pouch of diamonds back to Eric, nodding to both him and Maddie. His eyes lingered on the baby for a moment before he grabbed Charlie's arm and led her outside.

They dashed across the street to the abandoned house where they'd left the horses. When they reached the yard, Charlie stopped, yanking her arm away and staring up at Monroe. The light of the moon was the only source of illumination, bathing them both in a cool silver light. "You let them go..."

"You were right. What good would it do to bring them in? He's just a kid."

Eric Patrick was actually older than her, but in terms of experience, she probably had decades on him. And she no longer believed Monroe thought of her as some amateur rookie. But she was still flabbergasted by the night's events. "I-I didn't think..."

"That I had a decent bone left in my body?"

"No, that's not..." Suddenly it was very important to her that he not think she felt that way...at least not anymore.

But he cut her off before she could continue. "Look, Charlie, I get it. We're partners, maybe even ones who trust each other. But we'll never be friends."

"Monroe-"

"We should get some sleep." He entered the house, leaving the door open for her to follow.

* * *

They spent the night in the house, checking on the former residence of the Patricks first thing in the morning. Both were happy to see the house was deserted, the family obviously long gone.

The trip back was spent largely in silence. Despite the things they'd learned about each other on the journey out, despite the ease that had settled over them before, the events in the house with Eric and his wife had caused another small rift to form. Charlie wasn't sure if they'd ever really be able to fill all the holes between them completely. But she did know she didn't like the lull between them nearly as much as she used to.

They stayed at the Pecan Street Inn on the way back through Bastrop. Stayed in the same room, slept in the same bed; as before, she didn't line pillows through the middle, but this time, it seemed to have no effect on their partnership.

It wasn't until they returned home, when they mutually decided to lie to the Republic of Texas about the death of Eric Patrick and the recently widowed wife he'd been visiting in Hedwig Village, that Charlie finally decided she had to make things right between her and Monroe. For the next mission they took, she wanted that truce back, that sense of ease and tranquility.

There was no answer when she knocked on his door in the late evening a few days later. But he hadn't been at the bar, or with Miles, and there were few other places he hung out. Also, she was surprised Michael hadn't answered; the kid was usually there by the third knock. Stepping around the side of the house, she opened the gate to the tall wooden fence that surrounded the backyard.

She found him there, sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs he had on his back porch. He was staring up at the stars, lost in thought. "Monroe?"

"Hi, Charlie," he said, his tone assuring her that he'd known of her presence from the second she opened the gate.

She breathed a sigh of relief at that; for some reason, it bothered her to think that he might be unprotected in his own backyard. She should have known better. "Where's Michael?"

"He made friends with a 15 year old kid who lives down the street. They're off hanging out somewhere." Doing whatever it was teenagers did in the post-Blackout world. He knew what he'd gotten up to at that age, but he'd had the luxury of cars and cell phones and movies and restaurants. He wasn't sure what kids did nowadays for fun.

"Oh."

"I can tell him you stopped by to see him whenever he gets back." His tone was so solemn, his voice quiet and raspy.

"Well, I actually didn't...I didn't come here to talk to him. I came to talk to you. May I?" She motioned to the empty chair beside him. At his nod, she sat, tucking one leg up under her.

Silence reigned for a few moments as both stared up at the stars.

"Was there something you needed to say?" He finally pulled his gaze from the heavens and rested it on her.

She looked over at him, their eyes connecting in that way they always had. She was nervous, but she knew she had to speak her mind. "I don't want you to think that I don't think you're capable of doing the right thing. I know you are. You came back to Willoughby to help us with that gas. You brought Davis to that church. And you let that family go. Maybe our jobs require us to bring them in, but the right thing...that's what you did."

"Well, I guess we'll see."

"I **know** you can do what's right, Monroe. I was just surprised." Her gaze flicked up to the sky for a minute before returning to his. "Then I thought maybe you'd listened to what I said. Maybe you changed your mind because I made you understand. But that was giving me entirely too much credit. You planned on letting them go from the beginning. Or at least from the moment you heard that baby."

It was true. He wasn't sure if the fact that Eric Patrick had a wife was enough to sway him, but the second he knew a child was involved, the entire game changed. There was so much Charlie didn't know about him, but he didn't want to get involved in all of that tonight. Not when he had so much else on his mind. So he stuck with the safe story. "I didn't get to be a part of Connor's life. And I'll always regret that. And I'll always wonder if things would have turned out differently if I had. I can't put another father through that."

She stared at him for a few moments, her eyes soft. He would have sworn he even saw a few tears sparkling in them. But she turned away, hiding her face from him again. "Well, I just wanted you to know. I don't want...to go back to hating each other and fighting every time we go out on a mission."

"We won't," he assured her.

She smiled, a delicate expression that took away all the hard edges and revealed the girl underneath it all. He wasn't sure he'd seen it since Philly. Actually, he wasn't sure he'd ever been privy to it before. She was beautiful.

"And maybe someday...well, anyway, I should go." Standing, she took one last look at the stars, then turned to leave. She realized she'd chickened out, that she couldn't admit that someday they might be friends, but she figured baby steps were the best way to go with him. "Good night, Monroe."

"Night, Charlie." He didn't press her for a further answer, and she was grateful for it.

Almost out of the gate, she glanced back at him. Something was definitely not right...even if they weren't friends, they were partners, and it was partly her responsibility to make sure her partner was okay. Wandering over to his porch, she plopped down in the chair again. Surprised by her return, he looked at her.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"What makes you think something's wrong?"

She sighed. So he was going to make her do it the hard way. "We've been partners for a few months. I worked with you for more than half a year before that. I'm not stupid."

"Never said you were."

"Then what's wrong?"

Bass's attention was back on the starlit sky above. Just when she was sure he wasn't going to answer her, he spoke. "I was thinking about a friend. His birthday would have been today."

"Would have been...when did he die?"

His eyes lowered, staring blankly out at the backyard. "When I...when I had him killed."

She shook her head, unsure. "I..."

He turned to her, gazes locking. "He was a captain in the militia. He was just about the only friend I had left after Miles took off. But I didn't..."

"Didn't what?"

"I didn't trust him, Charlie. At some point, I couldn't trust anyone. I was at the top and it was so **damn** lonely there." She had questions, but he was lost in his thoughts now, and she didn't want to interrupt. "There was an assassination attempt on my life, after Jasper, after I found out about Connor. I was a little low on trust. I was so sure he was involved, that he'd lured me out. He didn't get hit, so I thought he was in on it. He said that...if he'd gotten shot it would have been better. He was right. I might have believed him then."

They sat in silence, his words still hanging in the air. After a few moments, she broke it. "What happened?"

"I called him in my office. He realized what was going on. And I walked out." He scoffed. "I didn't even have the guts to look my last remaining friend in the face when I pulled the trigger. I had a kill squad do the dirty work for me. Later, I found out the assassin was a rebel, working on his own. I would've given anything to take it back, but it was just too late."

"Monroe-"

"That's the kind of friend I am, Charlie. You're probably better off if we remain nothing more than partners."

She studied him, but he refused to meet her eye. "I think Miles would disagree."

His eyes shot up to hers. "What?"

"In spite of what you guys have been through, he still considers you his friend. I think you've proven to be pretty loyal to him." Tears glimmered in his eyes, tears she once would have thought fake. Now she knew better. "So you let me worry about whether or not I want you for my friend."

He turned his attention back to the stars, a quiet peace settling over them once more. After a few minutes, she heard him whisper. "Thank you, Charlie."

She said nothing as they both stared up at the sky. Nearly a full 30 minutes passed before Bass spoke again. "So are we friends?"

She couldn't quite manage to keep the smirk off her face. "Don't push it, Monroe. If we ever are, I'll let you know."

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the shit-eating grin that covered his face as he gazed up at the stars.

* * *

 **Charlie and Bass will be back on another mission. Hopefully sooner rather than later. :)**


End file.
